


Four Seasons: a Year of Trevelyan

by peachpeach



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Eventual Fluff, Eventual Sex, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-03-21 02:54:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 33,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13731612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachpeach/pseuds/peachpeach
Summary: Diana Trevelyan has disappeared.No one has seen or heard from the Inquisitor in months; not after the Inquisition was dissolved and her left arm with it. Haunted by nightmares, flashbacks, and detachment, Diana flees to a small Ferelden town seeking anonymity. Giving the alias Lena Ward, she finds comfort at the Owl Roost Inn which is run by Rosalie Ormiston and her husband Alec.The only problem?Rosalie's maiden name is Rutherford.Follow Diana Trevelyan through spring, summer, fall, and winter.





	1. Spring 1: Problem

She was slipping. She was a newborn fawn, her knees crashing through a thin layer of obsidian ice. The cold water cruelly cut at her legs and she scrambled to hold onto the surface of the vast, endless frozen lake. Her fingernails quickly became torn and bloodied as she fruitlessly tried to climb out of the water.

“Let go.”

Solas’ voice echoed through the cold void.

Freezing water crept up to her throat. She couldn’t feel her legs anymore.

The elf appeared before her, looking grand in an elaborate outfit with swirling elven designs.

“Let go.”

His voice was sickly sweet and kind, like a hunter luring a kill.

“Let go of what?” she gasped, coughing as she inhaled some of the icy black water. Her jawline dipped below the water.

Solas extended a hand. Diana clawed at it, grabbing it with her left hand as her right arm hoisted her body up onto the ice. She collapsed onto her back, coughing out spatters of dark liquid; she couldn’t tell if it was blood or water. There was an eerie silence.

Solas was still holding onto her left hand.

Although she tried to tug it from his grasp, it seemed his fingers were digging into her flesh. They bit just as deep as the icy water.

“Let go,” Solas said, looking at her with a strange expression. Pity, maybe. Or incredulity that she hadn’t figured something out in time.

“Let go of wh-”

“Of everything.” He smiled a smile she had never before seen on his face nor on any other face. It twisted, impossibly large and curving so high upward into his cheeks that if he had opened his mouth she imagined it would have split him from ear to ear.

His free hand rose and when he gently tapped her captive hand, her arm exploded into a thousand glowing pieces of gold and emerald and they burned hot on her face, sizzling and she heard screaming and a deep rumbling in her chest that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

Diana jerked in her bed, her forehead slamming into the wall that her small bed had been pushed up against. A stream of nasty curse words escaped her mouth as the door to her room was gently pushed open.

A sweet face appeared in the doorway. Fresh-faced and kind, Rosalie Ormiston was the innkeeper (along with her husband, Alec) at the small Ferelden town of Holmfirth, which was just south of Redcliffe. There was a concerned look on her face as she noticed the blooming bruise on Diana’s forehead.

“Are you alright? Another nightmare, Lena? I heard, uhm, screaming...”

Oh, yes. The fake name. Every time Diana heard it she felt like cringing; Rosalie and her family were good people and didn’t deserve to be lied to… and yet when she had first stopped at the Owl Roost Inn, she had given them a fabricated name. Well, not _entirely_ fabricated… she had claimed her last name was Ward, which was her mother’s maiden name. So that technically wasn’t a total lie, right?

Diana probably could have gotten away with using Trevelyan as her last name; she was so far into Ferelden she doubted people from this small village would have recognized the name of the Inquisitor. It had been nearly three years since the defeat of Corypheus and almost a year since the dissolution of the Inquisition. People moved on.

Except Diana.

“I’m fine, I’m sorry,” she muttered, putting fingers to her head where she could feel a lump already beginning to blossom.

Rosalie looked at her, hesitant and unconvinced. “I’ll bring you some elfroot,” she said, her face setting into a stubborn expression that Diana had come to know very well. The golden-haired woman turned on her heel and shut Diana’s door as she exited, no doubt going to fetch some of the promised elfroot.

The (former?) Inquisitor squeezed her eyes shut for a second, considering going back to bed. Even with the nightmares, sleeping was still better than being awake… but falling asleep seemed to take entirely too long nowadays. Some nights it eluded her altogether.

After a moment, Diana opened her dark, almost coal-colored eyes. Even with her window shuttered, sunbeams were still piercing into her room. The birds outside of her room seem to be encouraged by the sunshine and Diana could hear the dripping of melting snow onto the roof if she listened hard enough.

Spring was coming to Holmfirth and everyone seemed to be invigorated by it. A time of renewal, of awakening, of growth. A tiny spark of hope bubbled up nervously into Diana’s chest. Maybe…

No.

Spring was here, but it was not for her. There was no escaping the looming darkness in the corners of her vision, there was no hiding from the void that had wormed its way into her chest and eaten away at any feelings she once had for anyone or anything.

Spring was passion and hope and green things rising anew from the dark soil and she was the cold and she was an endless, desolate winter with no promise for a sunrise.

Diana - Lena - whoever she was now - pulled the blanket on her bed up over her head. She didn’t even bother closing her eyes beneath the blanket; she knew sleep wouldn’t come to her now that these thoughts had dug their way into her mind. _I can’t, I can’t, I can’t,_ she found her mind chanting over and over.

“Oh, are you sleeping?” Rosalie’s voice floated in from the door, which she must have quietly opened. There was a pause and then the door creaked as it opened the whole way. The blonde was suddenly next to Diana, pulling the blanket off of her head and thrusting the elfroot into her hand. “Get up, lazybones. It’s beautiful outside and I need help taking the cart to market.”

Diana sat up obediently, pushing herself off of the mattress. The linen sleeve of her left arm dangled loosely, rolled upon empty space. She patted the elfroot onto her forehead bump, leaving it feeling prickly.

“Wooden or metal?” Rosalie questioned, bustling over to the hooks behind Diana’s door where two identically sized arms were hanging from leather straps. One was simple and made of stained wood and the other was gilded in gold with embossed designs swirling around. Rosalie didn’t even give Diana time to answer, just lifted an arm from the hooks and sounded bored as she said,  “Let me guess: wooden.”

“How did you know?” Diana asked flatly. She meant for it to come out as a joke, but it fell humorlessly upon her lips. Rosalie ignored her tone.

“Because I know you,” she answered simply.

Another pang of guilt. _No, you don’t know me. My name isn’t even Lena. You have no idea who I am or what I’ve done and what I’ve seen or who has died because of me._ “True,” was what she managed to say instead.

“When are you going to let me fix you up with one of the men in town?” Rosalie asked, dunking a washcloth in the water basin on Diana’s dresser and passing it to the former Inquisitor.

She rubbed the remnants of sleep from her face and placed it on the back of her neck, enjoying the cooling feeling. “When are you going to stop asking?” Diana retorted. Rosalie gave a small, barking laugh.

“Gotta make this old thing look better with a big emerald ring on it,” she suggested, waving the wooden arm around. Diana rolled her eyes and Rosalie again laughed, moving to fasten the prosthesis onto the remnant of Diana’s arm.

For the next half hour or so, Rosalie gave Diana gentle orders and she obediently followed them. Her hair was brushed, teeth cleaned, bed made, and the innkeeper even set out a soft green dress for Diana to wear. “You’re getting a lot faster at the buttons,” she remarked, watching Diana fasten up the front. “Soon you’re going to be doing everything yourself and I can trick you into doing all the errands for the inn and I’ll just relax here at home, off of my feet and being pampered.”

“You ruined it by telling me your evil plan,” Diana said, her eyes rolling slightly. Rosalie laughed.

“Nothing gets by you.”

* * *

 They returned to the Owl Roost Inn hours later, both walking alongside the cart as it was now overflowing with goods. Sweet onions and carrots and big slabs of wrapped raw beef and stuffing for new mattresses and pillows were bursting from it but the strong donkey pulling the cart, Fred, seemingly had no problem with the large load.

“Thanks for carrying the eggs,” Rosalie said for what felt like the thirtieth time, motioning toward Diana’s right hand which was clutching the handle of a basket.

Diana just nodded, unwilling to become annoyed at the excessive thanks. Rosalie was sweet. She made every effort to include Diana in everything. Instead of treating her as a guest at the inn she treated her more like a family member.

Sometimes, though, it became too much; Diana had only once accepted Rosalie’s offer to eat at her family’s dinner table and that had been on Rosalie’s birthday… but that didn’t stop Rosalie from inviting her every single night. Nevertheless, Diana humored the innkeeper most of the time, accompanying her on small outings or doing chores with her around the inn.

Rosalie was good company. She didn’t ask questions. She didn’t ask why Diana had scars on her body or daggers in her pack or why one of her prosthetic arms looked grand enough for a queen. She didn’t ask where all of Diana’s money was coming from nor did she ask why she woke up screaming most nights.

“Thank you,” Diana said as they entered the inn through the side door that led to the kitchen. It was warm inside and she let the warmth from the crackling fire wash over her. Rosalie took the basket from Diana, carefully sitting the basket of eggs on a countertop as Alec began to unload the cart.

“Thank you? Thank you for what?” Rosalie asked, looking slightly suspicious.

“Thank you for… this,” she said awkwardly, motioning in a general sort of way. “Making me… do things. Have a routine. I… appreciate it.”

Rosalie glanced at Alec, who had come in with a bag of onions over his shoulder. “You’re not leavin’, are you?” he questioned, his deep voice worried.

“No, I’m just-” Diana began.

“Oh, good,” Alec said, relieved. He sat the onions down by the cellar door. “I’d hate for you to leave just before our big feast. Rosalie’s family is coming by for a little reunion; her brother has been traveling around for a while and is finally coming to visit.”

Diana frowned. She had met Rosalie’s brother before. His name was Branson and he had come by a few months ago to introduce them to his newborn son. “Traveling? Did he leave his wife alone with the baby?”

“Baby? What baby?” Rosalie asked, looking very confused.

“Oh, you’re thinkin’ of Branson,” Alec said after a moment, with a little chuckle. “No, this is her brother you haven’t met yet. His name is Cullen. You’d best be around when he visits; I imagine he’ll have some fun stories to tell. He was Commander of the Inquisition, you know. One of Inquisitor Trevelyan’s advisors.”


	2. Spring 2: Reaction

Diana wasn’t sure what happened after Alec mentioned Cullen’s name. She was only now very aware that her hand was cold and her knees were soaked through her green dress; she had been dry heaving outside in the snow for several minutes while Rosalie fluttered around her with a concerned expression.

“I hope you’re not sick,” she murmured, putting a cool hand upon Diana’s forehead. She barely felt the touch, her eyes staring into the snow and slowly going out of focus. She let Rosalie pull her up from the ground, brushing flakes of snow from Diana’s dark curls and retrieving her hat where it had fallen. “Let’s get you to bed.”

She was silent as Rosalie led her back to her room. Her thoughts consumed her. Cullen. She knew Cullen. He was from her life before this, when she had been the Inquisitor. When she had-

There was so much blood, always. Her blood, someone else’s. There had been non-stop violence in her life for a very long time, there was so much pressure on her shoulders and so many people depending on her, so many people dying for her. Never-ending choices, never-ending responsibilities, never-ending pain and nightmares and Solas - Solas - he -

Diana reached for her left arm as Rosalie worked on prying her soaked boots off of her feet. Her fingers touched nothing.

“Do you... miss your arm?” Rosalie asked quietly from where she kneeled on the floor next to Diana’s bed. Dark eyes settled on the innkeeper. Where a second ago there had been too many emotions, too many thoughts, and too much pain cleaving her chest in half, now there was emptiness. There was numbness and nothing and it felt like her body was shutting down feelings lest she overload herself and burst apart into a thousand tiny pieces. She was Diana, but beyond that she was unsure of everything else.

“I don’t,” she heard herself say.

“You look upset,” Rosalie said softly, concern creasing between her eyebrows.

“I’m upset… with how it was taken.”

Encouraged by Diana’s first instance of sharing the slightest information about her missing arm, Rosalie gently pressed onward. “How was it taken?”

But Diana just shook her head, back and forth and back and forth. Rosalie watched her a for a few seconds and then nodded once, her mouth a thin and serious line. She looked so like Cullen now that Diana wasn’t sure how she never saw it before.

The former Inquisitor was left in solitude for the rest of the day; Rosalie only came in once a few hours later, bringing a bowl of simple broth and a chunk of chewy bread with it. If she knew that Diana was pretending to sleep when she came into the room to leave the food, she politely pretended to not notice and didn’t try to engage Diana in any more conversation.

The next morning, Diana woke early after only a few hours of fitful sleep. It was cold and dark outside still. _I need to leave._

Diana forced herself to eat some of the broth that Rosalie had left the night before, even though it was cold now. She wasn’t hungry but knew she hadn’t eaten in almost a day, so she needed the broth for strength.

After her small breakfast, she began to pack the few things she had put into the chest of drawers that Rosalie and Alec had provided to her. She would leave the clothes that Rosalie had given her behind; the secondhand gowns and trousers had never really been hers to begin with.

Diana folded the borrowed clothes as neatly as possible and placed them in gentle pile on her bed. She hesitated, then set a small pouch of coins on top of the clothes. Rosalie and Alec were good people. They deserved to have good things come their way; maybe this money would help them.

Maybe this would help distract them from her sudden departure.

Diana sighed and pulled out parchment and ink from her bag, setting it on the small table in the corner of her room. She always wrote Josephine a letter when she left a town or city. Her last letter had been written… what, six months ago? Yes, that was right… six months ago she had left her temporary residence and came to Holmfirth.

_Josephine -_

_I’m fine. Sorry it took so long to write this. I found a place I liked. People I liked. But a complication just came up so I’m leaving again. Thank you for getting coin to me. Hope you’re doing well._

_D._

It felt strange, like writing a letter to a foggy childhood memory. Diana closed her eyes. She could remember what Josephine looked like. She remembered her big sleeves, her shiny hair, her nice smile. But how did her nose look? Did she have a birthmark on her face? Was her chin pointy? What did her voice sound like?

Josephine was fading.

The Inquisition was fading.

And Diana felt nothing.

She blew on the ink, trying to get it to dry faster. She could send the letter on her way out of Holmfirth.

There was a hesitant knock on her bedroom door.

“Lena?”

It was Alec. He always rose early and made breakfast for the guests. He must have seen the candle light beneath her door.

She didn’t respond.

“I know you’re awake in there. You’re not… you’re not planning on leaving, are you?” his voice was as soft and as kind as ever, like he was speaking to a skittish newborn lamb. “We were gonna wait until the reunion to ask you, but… we wanted to ask you if you’d be godmother…”

Diana froze, the parchment in her hand quivering. Godmother. That meant-

“Rosalie and I are expecting a baby,” he sounded proud. Diana knew they had been trying to have a baby since they had been married two summers ago. “We wanted to ask you to be her godmother. Well, to be the baby’s godmother… we don’t know if it’s a boy or girl yet but I’m hoping for a girl, I just want to…”

His voice faded out. Diana’s eyes read the words on her letter over and over.

_I’m fine. Sorry it took so long to write this. I found a place I liked. People I liked._

_I found a place I liked. People I liked._

_People I liked._

“Lena?” Alec’s voice cut through the mantra in her head.

She heard herself speak. “Yes, Alec. I will.”

And she began to unpack. Not just the few things she had only put into the pack this morning, but her daggers, too. One by one they came out of her pack and she set them into their new spots in the formerly empty drawers.

Out came her leather armor, singed from fire in some places and corroded from acid in others but still hardy. Out came her autographed copy of _Hard in Hightown_ with a special inscription inside the front page. She laid them out one by one, carefully touching them with a quaking hand.

Slowly, she let the memories sink into her.

Varric. His laugh, his humor, the pain in his eyes when Hawke was-

No.

Cassandra. Her determination, her stubbornness, the disappointment when she wasn’t chosen as the next Divine-

No.

A frustrated hiss ripped itself out of her chest and then a strangled noise between a sob and a bitter laugh came from somewhere deep inside of Diana. She was so tired. Tired of feeling like this, tired of being haunted by moments that she could never change, tired of seeing Solas standing at the corners of her vision, tired of reliving pain in her dreams every night.

An overwhelming fatigue swept over her suddenly and she felt like she could sleep for several days if she tried. But when she blew out the candles in her room and laid down in her bed, sleep didn’t come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment, bookmark, or subscribe. They really do keep writers going! I appreciate every single kudos, comment, bookmark, etc.! :D


	3. Rosalie/Cullen Letters

_Dear Cullen,_

_Thank you for your last letter! I enjoy hearing about your travels. You seem to be doing a lot of good to help Ferelden and I know Alec and I are both very proud of you. I imagine Mia and Branson are, too, but I haven’t written to them in quite a while. You know what they’re like… letters were never their strength. Don’t tell them I said that!_

_Alec and I are well. We just received a new guest at the inn and she is a little peculiar. She keeps to herself most of the time, hasn’t told us a thing about herself, but has paid for a month up front. A month! I nearly screamed when I saw the coins tumble onto the counter. Strange or not, she can stay as long as she likes. Her name is Lena. She’s far too serious for her own good but I feel like she needs me, strangely. I want to help her._

_You know all about helping people. I’m glad your request for land was granted by Divine Victoria. I really do think a sanctuary for templars is something we’ve needed for a long time. I’m glad you’re coming to visit as it’s being built; I imagine you’ll be busy for a very long time once it’s up and running._

_Love always,_

_Rosalie (and Alec)_

* * *

_Dear Rosalie (and Alec),_

_Please be careful with your new guest. She sounds very suspicious. Remember when you were determined to help that stray dog in Honnleath? You were bitten and your whole arm swelled up. Please don’t be bitten by another dog._

_I’m looking forward to visiting you and Alec. It’s been long overdue. I have many gifts to bring you. I imagine you’ll be most excited by the fabric I bought for you in Orlais. It’s very fine and the latest fashion, I’m told. I also bought you some gloves that I thought matched the fabric, but the seamstress I bought them from looked appalled that I was considering pairing them together so perhaps you should give them a second look before wearing them simultaneously._

_Love,_

_Cullen (and Roger, my new mabari)_  

* * *

 

_Dear Cullen (and Roger! A mabari! How exciting! Pet him for me!),_

_It’s very rude of you to call my new friend a dog. In the month it’s taken to get your reply (I blame the snow, it’s very deep here) we’ve become fast friends. Lena’s very kind, but very sad and troubled. She wakes up screaming very often and if I’m going by the dark circles under her eyes, she’s not sleeping very often to begin with. Do you have any recommendations for mind calming herbs? I imagine you’d have come across some while helping templars who have… well, you know._

_Also, no offense, Cullen, but you wear the same smelly fur every day of the year so of course I will give a second look to anything you think goes together._

_Love,_

_Rosalie (and Alec, who now wants his own mabari)_

* * *

_Dear Rosalie (and Alec),_

_You’re right, it was very rude of me to compare your friend to a dog. I’m just worried about my sister. From your description, I feel like I judged her too harshly. We all have our own demons to keep away. I’ve enclosed a list of ingredients that can be brewed into a simple mind calming remedy. It doesn’t help the darkest nightmares, but it stops some._

_I might beat this letter to Holmfirth. We’re on the edge of Lake Calenhad and might only have a few more days if we travel quickly. The melting snow is causing a lot of mud, however. If you see a Cullen-shaped mud monster, please don’t let the townsfolk grab their pitchforks and torches._

_Love,_

_Cullen (and Roger, who perpetually has muddy paws)_

_P.S. - My fur looks fine._

_P.P.S. - It’s not smelly._


	4. Spring 3: Feast

The days went on and Diana was constantly cycling through different feelings. One moment she felt nothing; she was eerily calm, quiet, and there was a kind of disconnect between her thoughts and the reality of the fact that Cullen would be here in a few days. Panic kept rising within her thoughts and her mind flicked it back down with a simple  _ no.  _ No, this wasn’t happening. It was fine. Nothing was changing.

The next moment she was tense, angry at herself, slamming doors and cabinets and dicing carrots with such vigor that Alec gingerly took the knife from her hand and shooed her outdoors. 

And then she would be panicked again. Cullen was coming. She couldn’t see Cullen. She needed to leave. But she couldn’t leave, because Rosalie and Alec had been so good to her and she promised she would be their baby’s godmother. She had to stay. Had to repay them for their goodness. 

She tried to distract herself. Banished from the indoors by Alec, she found herself outside with her daggers and her throwing knives. She chucked them one by one into a tree, hitting nearly the same mark every time.  _ Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.  _ Diana pried them out of the bark with a satisfying crackling noise. 

“Impressive.”

She hadn’t heard Alec approach her. The snow had all melted by now; there was no crunch to warn her of someone coming, only the soft squelch of mud occasionally. Her past self was clicking her tongue disapprovingly; how did Diana Trevelyan the Great Rogue manage to have someone sneak up on her without trying?

“Thanks,” she mumbled to Alec.

“Where’d you learn that?”

“I was…” she wrenched the last one from the tree. “In the army.”

It wasn’t a lie. Not really. Her stomach knotted. So many lies she had to keep track of.

When she finally turned to look at Alec, the knot in her stomach tightened. His eyes, so large and brown, looked sad. When he finally spoke, he was quiet. “Must have been hard. A lot of folks don’t come back. And some that do…don’t.”

She swallowed hard, tears pricking her eyes for some reason. She just wanted to be a simple person again. Diana Trevelyan, youngest child of Bann Trevelyan. A promising talent, but no more than that. No mark on her hand, no Corypheus. No decisions, no pain.

“Must have been hard,” he repeated.

Her throat felt like it was swelling shut. She was the Inquisitor, she had to be strong and perfect. She had to mourn the loss of every soldier, every person who died for her, but she couldn’t be distracted. Couldn’t feel, had to be strong, had to be perfect, couldn’t be hurt, had to be strong, had to be strong, had to be-

“It was hard,” the words left her like a gasp, barely intelligible. 

“S’okay,” Alec said, voice low. “You did your best. You’re strong. I could tell the moment I met you.”

She let out a snorting, skeptical laugh. A tear fell from her eye onto her cheek and she quickly turned away. 

“You did your best,” he repeated. “You’re strong. You’re a good person.”

Diana could feel her head nod involuntarily, but then she just gathered her daggers and went inside. 

* * *

The rest of the day went quickly. Alec and Rosalie were both very busy preparing food or cleaning the inn or pulling out extra cots and mattresses for Rosalie’s family, who would be arriving later that night.

Diana had briefly considered pretending to be sick in order to miss the homecoming feast (and therefore Cullen and therefore her Inquisitor reveal) but Rosalie had told her that they would be having three feasts on three consecutive nights. There was a slim chance that she could get away with being “sick” for three days in a row and an even slimmer chance that she wouldn’t somehow run into Cullen some other way at the inn.

Alec eventually brought her up a tub and filled it with buckets of steamy water for Diana to bathe and as she did, she thought of Cullen. She hadn’t known him very well. He was nice, she supposed. Firm. A commander through and through. The only time he had shown her any inkling of a weakness was when he shared with her the information about templars and lyrium and asked for her opinion. She had told him to stop taking it. That was… maybe the last non-Inquisition related conversation they had ever had.

Until now. Until tonight.

Diana sank lower into the tub, drawing her knees to her chest and letting the water rise to her throat. Maybe he wouldn’t recognize her. Rosalie had given Diana a small hand mirror to make herself look “presentable” for tonight and she had hardly recognized herself when she had looked into it. During her time in the Inquisition she had kept her curly dark hair short and cut just below her chin. Now it brushed past her collarbones and was more nest-like than curl-like.

She half-heartedly used her mouth to blow bubbles in her tub water, which was rapidly cooling.

_ I can’t stay in this tub forever,  _ she decided unenthusiastically, groaning as she pulled herself up to a sitting position. Her hand reached out to grab some oil that Alec had brought with him when he delivered the water. It smelled like smoky sandalwood, faint but good. She used it to detangle her curls, which took so long that by the time she was done her water was nearly ice cold.

“Lena! Everyone’s here already. We’re in the dining room when you’re done,” Rosalie’s words were accompanied by loud knocks on Diana’s bedroom door. “We’re going to start eating; Cullen’s men won’t stop complaining about how hungry they are.”

Cullen. Cullen’s men. Were they also former Inquisition men? Would they recognize her as well? Maybe they’d look at her with hatred. Or disappointment. Or, worse, pity. Or maybe, by the grace of the Maker, they would somehow not associate her with the Inquisitor at all and she would get to be Lena Ward all night long.

Diana dried with a towel and then found herself staring down at her own body. She used to be firm, toned. Her body had been sturdy, rippling with power every time she moved. Now, it felt like a stranger as she ran her hand over her body. Her muscles were still there, but were smaller, weaker. They seemed to be reluctantly clinging to her body in the hopes that someday she’d remember how to use them.

She was thinner now, too, her cheeks pointier and the dark circles under her eyes seemed to be a permanent feature of her face. Where before her body had been strong and thick, it was now the skinniest it had ever been before. She couldn’t quite see her hip bones or her ribs, but she imagined if she kept going on like this, unchanging, they would make an appearance soon.

Diana frowned, grabbing her dress off of her bed before she had any more time to think about the consequences of her wandering path around Ferelden. The navy dress was new, made by Rosalie just for the feasts. The sleeves were long, like Diana liked, and it was simple but warm and fit well. 

Her hand shook as she straightened the dress and then slid her feet into some soft slippers Rosalie had given her. These weren’t new, but they fit well and went with her dress better than her rough old boots did. These also didn’t have the laces that her boots did, which made getting dressed on her own much easier.

It was only once she was about to leave her room that she realized she had forgotten to put on her wooden arm and a string of curse words left her mouth as she pulled the dress off. Fastening the prosthesis to the remnants of her arm took longer than it usually did; her shaking hand kept fumbling and dropping the straps. Finally, she pulled the dress back on and straightened her hair, trying to smooth down the fuzzy flyaways. 

Diana was thankful, in some way, that she felt nothing at this moment. No nervousness, no excitement, nothing. Her chest felt vast and empty and cold and as she walked down the stairs to the dining room she wasn’t even sure she could feel the thud of her boots or the wooden handrail sliding in her palm. 

Was she really here? Was she really-

“Lena! Finally. I was worried we’d run out of food before you were able to eat any,” Rosalie said, standing from her seat at one end of the table. Her cheeks were flushed and she looked happier and more radiant than Diana had ever seen. “Come sit by me.”

Her breath was shaky as she began the seemingly miles-long walk to the empty seat to the left of Rosalie. As she walked, her eyes raked over the people who were already seated. She recognized Alec at the other end of the table. He was speaking rapidly to a woman who had the same coiled black hair that he did; Diana had met her before and knew her as Sorcha, his sister.

Branson and his wife were there with their son, who was determined to shove some mashed carrots into his mouth but smeared them all over his cheeks on accident. Near the middle of the table was Mia, her cropped blonde hair and beautiful smile illuminating the room.

And to Rosalie’s right, seated with his back to the door through which Diana had entered, was a familiar head of golden hair. 

“This is my brother, Cullen,” Rosalie said as Diana shakily sank into the chair next to the innkeeper. “Cullen, this is Lena.”

Diana slowly looked up from her lap into the eyes of the man who now sat directly across from her. She felt like her chest might burst into a thousand embers. Embers like the fire of Corypheus, the singed breath of dragons, the fiery dissolution of her arm as it melted from her body with Solas’ vice-like grip. The fires would destroy her peaceful slice of life in Holmfirth and she-

“Ah, nice to meet you, Lena,” Cullen gave a small, polite smile and if he recognized her he did not show it. Maybe… maybe she had changed too much. Maybe her gaunt face and her long hair was too different. Maybe her long, wood-filled sleeve moved convincingly. “Rosalie has told me about you. She considers you one of her closest friends, if I’m not mistaken.”

“I-I hope you’re not mistaken,” Diana managed, reaching for the water-filled cup that had been set before her. “I consider her one of mine, too.”

Rosalie beamed, moving to fill Diana’s plate with all kinds of meat and good vegetables. From there, the evening unfolded at a very relaxed pace. Her empty cup was filled with wine or mead or ale or whatever was nearby and the fear that had been beginning to grip her throat  was finally letting go. Cullen’s conversation was polite and friendly, but not anymore polite or friendly than he would have been if he had been speaking to anyone else. 

He truly did not recognize her.

One by one the large dining room table was emptied as the guests and family members rose from their seats to retire to their rooms. Soon even Rosalie was yawning, trying to stifle it with her hand. “Excuse me,” she murmured, standing. Alec stood with her, his hand moving to rub soothing circles on his wife's lower back. “I think we need to go to bed.”

“I should, too,” Diana said, standing. She thought she saw Cullen glance at her wooden hand poking out of the bottom of her sleeve, but when she turned to look at him he was adjusting his shirt with a little too much interest. “Goodnight.”

Alec and Rosalie’s room was on the lower floor of the inn, so they bid goodnight to Cullen and Diana at the bottom of the stairs. Evidently Cullen’s room was also upstairs; he followed Diana as she walked up the creaky steps. 

She felt calm as she touched the knob on her bedroom door; she had actually done it. She hadn’t panicked or had to leave, she had hardly thought about everything she had been through with the Inquisition. She had fully been Lena for an entire night. The victory was small but triumphant. 

It was also short-lived.

Cullen caught the wrist of her right arm as she reached for her doorknob. She gasped slightly, startled by the sudden movement in the dark stairwell that was lit only by a few wavering candles. “Why are you Lena and not Diana?” he asked, his voice low and quiet. She couldn’t see his expression; a dark shadow hid his face from her.

She stammered. A thousand different excuses were in her mouth.  _ Lie to him. Lie. Lie. Lie. _

She couldn’t. The truth fell from her mouth just as quickly as the tears came onto her cheeks. “I don’t want to be,” she said, her eyes focusing on a dark shadow near her feet. She could feel herself going numb again. “It’s - it’s too much. I can’t.”

He released her. Whether her answer satisfied him or not, she would never know for she opened the door to her room and retreated inside too quickly to see how sad he looked.


	5. Spring 4: Birds of a feather

Diana did not sleep. 

She took her dress off and her slippers off and she changed into a nightshirt and laid on her back in her bed, but she she did not sleep. She could not.

The weight of Cullen’s palm on her wrist was still there. 

She wasn’t sure how she felt. Was she ashamed? Embarrassed? Angry that he had made such a demand for truth from her? Diana wished she felt any of those - but she didn’t feel anything at all. She tossed and turned all night, wishing she was feeling… something. 

Anything. 

Anything would be better than this, the numb inhuman feeling that had settled up into her chest and made her lose her appetite and made her forget how to act like herself.  _ Herself.  _ What did that mean, anyway? Who was she now? As Diana Trevelyan she had been fun, playful; a mostly carefree daughter of a bann. Then she was the Herald and the Inquisitor and the fun and energy she once had was sapped from her and replaced by stress, responsibility, and the guilt of death and danger.

And now… now she just felt like no one at all.

Diana waited until sunrise to get dressed in a too-big shirt that had once been Alec’s and a pair of loose trousers that Rosalie had tailored down for her. She was waiting when Rosalie knocked on her door, but apparently the stress of the last night’s event as well as her lack of sleep made her look even worse than she had imagined. The innkeeper took one look at Diana’s face and shooed her back to bed.

“You just rest up, alright? We’re going to be taking a trip to the lake, so if you do feel better feel free to walk over and meet us.” The lake was more of a pond, but its water was clean and its shallow waters would surely be warm by now. Diana nodded, although she knew she had no plans of joining them later. Not as long as Cullen would be there.

She pulled her covers up and flipped onto her side as Rosalie left the room. 

Eventually, she did fall into a fitful sleep, but it wasn’t deep and it didn’t last long and ended rather abruptly when she felt something wet and snuffling on the back of her neck. She jerked awake, dark eyes searching wildly.

A gray mabari with big white spots was standing at the edge of her bed, his tail wiggling happily as he saw that she was now awake. Diana flipped around again so her head would be facing her door and saw that it was ajar. “Did you open my door?” she questioned, reaching out to scratch the mabari’s head. He gave no answer, but he looked pleased with himself. “What do you want, then, huh?”

He lifted his huge front paws and placed them on her bed, cocking his head in a questioning matter. Diana rolled her eyes, then patted the mattress encouragingly. He wasted no time in jumping into her bed, turning in a circle a few times, and then plopping himself down at the foot of her bed. Well, he  _ tried  _ to lay at the foot of her bed but he was so massive he ended up also laying on her feet and ankles. 

Diana looked at her slightly-open bedroom door. Well. Most of the inn was occupied by relatives of either Alec or Rosalie and they were probably all down at the lake…  _ plus  _ she had this giant mabari pinning her legs to her bed, so she supposed she was just going to have to try to sleep with her door open.

Miraculously, she was able to sleep. Maybe it was the comforting weight of the dog or maybe it was just the fact that she hadn’t been able to sleep very much at all for the past few days, but Diana slept in a dreamless slumber for many hours. When she woke, the sun looked like it was about to set. 

The mabari was still there, but he had moved to the floor and was snoring lightly on her thin rug.

“Roger? Come on, you’ve slept long enough, leave her be…”

A firm whisper came from her open door. She watched fingers push the door open gently and then there was Cullen, his gaze first settling on the mabari’s sleeping form and then widening as he noticed she was awake. 

He was wearing a dark gray tunic with a large neckline, which he tugged on briefly as he cleared his throat. “Oh. You’re… awake. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

She shrugged, swinging her legs off of the bed and sitting upright. “I was awake.”

“Oh. Good. I’m glad you got some rest,” he said, then gestured to the mabari. “I came by earlier, but you were asleep so I thought I’d just leave him in here for a while.”

“Thanks.”

He stood awkwardly in her doorway, looking as if he wanted to enter and leave simultaneously. Eventually he sighed, looking defeated, and came into her bedroom. Cullen shut the door behind him. She tried not to look surprised; Cullen was usually very prim and proper and he must really need to speak privately to her if he was entering her bedroom. 

“I… wanted to apologize for last night,” he said, sinking into the wooden chair next to her table. 

“There’s no need,” she said quietly, her eyes watching the mabari instead of Cullen. “I understand why you’d be angry.”

“Angry?” he asked, sounding genuinely surprised. “Inquisitor, I wasn’t-”

“Don’t, please,” her voice was a whisper and she looked up to meet his eyes. “Don’t call me that.”

His mouth pressed into a tight line and he nodded, shoulders drooping slightly. There was silence for a while before he took a deep breath and spoke again. “I assume Rosalie and Alec know nothing of your true identity.”

“They don’t.” The words came from her mouth surprisingly easy. Maybe it was the fact that she was being honest for the first time in several months. She was Diana again, for now. No lies. It was easier in a way. She hesitated, then spoke again. “I didn’t know she was your sister. I would never have intentionally…”

She trailed off. Intentionally what? Intentionally used his sister for… for what? Her game of pretend? Used her to forget who she was for a while, before that fantasy came crashing down with his arrival?

“Nor did  _ I  _ know that you were - are - her Lena,” he said. He reached down to scratch the top of the mabari’s - Roger’s - head. The dog lazily opened an eye but did not move otherwise.

“But you did recognize me? Eventually?”

Cullen glanced at her. “I recognized you _ instantly _ ,” he said quickly, then cleared his throat. “I mean, I spent hours sitting across from you in meetings, we fought in battle together... Of course I recognized you. You’re the Inquisitor.”

“I haven’t been called that in a while.”

“Does it make it easier? Not hearing your title?”

“Not really,” she admitted.

They both fell quiet, then, and both sat in silence for a few minutes. The only sound in the room was from Roger, who had seemingly fallen asleep again, as he snored and whimpered as he dreamed in his sleep.

“I… I can understand why you wouldn’t want to be yourself,” Cullen said after a while, his forehead creasing. He opened his mouth to speak again, then closed it. After a moment he began again. “There was a time I didn’t want to be myself, either. Before the Inquisition, before Kirkwall, even, I used to be stationed at a Circle in Ferelden. Not far from here, actually.”

He glanced at her, looking for a reaction. She gave him nothing.

“My time there, ah, came to an end. A bloody, nightmarish end. The mages - they - well, they turned into abominations. My friends - the templars - were slaughtered in front of me,” Cullen’s voice was shaking slightly and his hands, which had previously been resting on his knees, curled into tight fists. “I was tortured and I became angry and cruel and when I was finally freed I was sent to Kirkwall where I  _ stayed _ angry and cruel and - well. You know how that ended. Everyone does.” A mirthless laugh escaped his lips.

“I didn’t know, Cullen,” she said quietly. A year or two ago, she might have put her hand on his. She might have moved to comfort him, to embrace and whisper murmurs of encouragement. But now she only sat.

“Not many know,” he admitted, then lifted his amber eyes to meet hers. She felt petrified by the vulnerability she saw behind them, the intensity, the honesty. Diana looked away. “I tell you this so you’ll… you’ll see. There is an end. There were days - months - where I was sure I would be consumed by my nightmares, my guilt and yet I - I’m here. Now. The memories don’t go away and the nightmares still happen, but… they have no power over my waking moments anymore.”

She could feel him still watching her, waiting for an answer or a reaction.

What could she say?

“I’m glad for you,” she said finally, standing and clearing her throat. She still refused to meet his gaze, looking anywhere but into those honest eyes of his. “We should go meet the others.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has left a comment, a kudos, a bookmark, or a subscription! You make me motivated to continue!


	6. Spring 5: Walk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to iduna and Jbelle0501, who both gave me the best compliment by saying my cliffhangers are cruel and/or painful. Heeeee hee.

Everyone was beginning to filter into the dining room. Some of the kids - and also Alec - had damp hair, a sure sign they had gone into the pond instead of picnicking next to it. Diana didn’t bother changing into the dress that Rosalie had given her; she stayed in her pants and loose shirt and took the same seat she had occupied the night before.

Cullen also took his same seat.

“You look like you feel better, Lena,” Rosalie remarked, filling a plate for the former Inquisitor.

“I do,” she said. She was slightly shocked to realize that she did, in fact, feel better. The sleep had definitely contributed to the improvement, but a part of her also wondered if maybe Cullen had something to do with it, too. Talking to him had been strangely freeing, even if he hadn’t convinced her that someday she would find her own peace.

It seemed too much to hope that maybe she wouldn’t always be like this. Someday she might dream without seeing Solas or Corypheus or the corpses of people under her command, might forget everything she had seen in the future at Redcliffe Castle. That particular future hadn’t come to pass, but it had stayed with her, a constant reminder of how close they had been to failing.

Diana had never told anyone about what had happened in Redcliffe or what she and Dorian had seen in the future. Under her orders, the mage hadn’t shared that information, either. She stared, unseeing, at the plate in front of her. Blood rushed to her ears and she could feel her hand beginning to shake under the table.

“Lena, what’s the name of this town?”

Cullen’s voice cut through her nightmares like a sword.

She snapped back to the dining table, out of Corypheus’ future. The former Commander was leaning forward in his chair quite intently, his eyes trying to catch hers.

“What’s the name of this town?” he asked again, holding her gaze. Rosalie was giving him an odd look but if the innkeeper had said anything, Diana couldn’t hear it. Her attention was focused on Cullen and his clear eyes.

“Holmfirth,” she said, trying not to let her voice sound shaky.

“The name of this inn?”

“The Owl Roost Inn.”

The little worried crease between his eyebrows was smoothing itself out. “My mabari?”

“Roger.”

Suddenly the mabari was there, too, shoving his nose into her hand under the table and snuffling loudly. Disappointed she had said his name but didn’t have any food for him, he wandered off to go beg at the feet of the kids, instead.

For the rest of the dinner, she could feel Cullen’s watchful eyes on her every time she fell silent. He was apparently on guard to make sure she wasn’t fading out of the present and back into memories. Diana appreciated it, but she also wasn’t used to being watched so closely. She squirmed in her seat as many left to take a post-dinner walk in the crisp night air.

Cullen lingered.

“I very nearly called you Diana,” he said, taking the now-vacant seat next to her. “But I thought you wouldn’t appreciate me ruining your secret while I was trying to get your attention.”

“It’s going to be ruined eventually anyway,” Diana said, shoulders shrugging slightly. She felt better. Braver, maybe, knowing that she had someone watching to make sure she didn’t slip back into the past so easily.

“It’s very likely,” Cullen agreed. “Do you miss being called by your name?”

“I don’t care about people using my real name. I was Herald and then Inquisitor and I don’t…” Diana trailed off. Cullen waited patiently and eventually she sighed, rubbed her forehead with the back of her hand and continued. “I miss not having to lie all the time.”

“I can see why. These past few months must have been tiring.”

She felt like laughing. _I’ve been lying for a lot longer than that._ Diana had said untrue things all the time as Inquisitor. _Yes, we’re going to win. No, I don’t think we’ll die. Yes, I have a plan._

“I used to feel like I was pretending,” Cullen said. He had lifted a cloth napkin from the table and was now folding, unfolding, and folding it again and again in his lap. “Playing the part of noble Commander… and playing the part poorly.”

She blinked at him. “I didn’t ever think you were ever playing a part. I just thought you were… being you.”

“It’s difficult to tell where I ended and the act began,” he said quietly. “I suppose in situations like that, with so many people depending on you, you have to become who they expect you to be; who they need you to be. It’s easy to lose yourself entirely.”

The hair on the back of her neck prickled uncomfortably. She wasn't sure if she liked feeling like this, feeling so vulnerable and open and like he could read her thoughts and feelings.

Something on her face must have betrayed her, for Cullen said, “We can stop talking about this if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“No, I just… I feel like you can read my mind,” Diana said, then laughed slightly at her foolishness.

“I wish I could. Perhaps then, I…” he trailed off, a faint blush coming to his cheeks. He focused on his folding more intently. “I learned how to fight the demons that live inside my mind. I know how it feels, how hopeless and lonely it can be.”

“Were you always this benevolent and I just never noticed before?” she questioned.

He laughed slightly, giving up on the napkin and tossing it in a messy heap on the table. “We were both very busy during the Inquisition. Not much time for conversations like this.”

She nodded in agreement. Maybe it was good that they hadn’t been very close during the Inquisition. Maybe their weird friendly-acquaintances history was exactly what she needed in order to talk so honestly to him. Maybe-

A bark interrupted her thoughts.

“Ah, sorry,” Cullen said, leaning down to pet Roger. “I should take him for a walk.”

Diana and her former Commander both stood. She wiped her palms on her pants nervously. “Can I - do you mind if I join you?” He looked so surprised that she quickly regretted asking. “Sorry, nevermind, I-”

“No! No, uh, not at all. No,” he cleared his throat, the blush returning. “I just wasn’t expecting you to want to join us. Please, feel free. You’re welcome wherever I am. Of course.”

So Diana and Cullen took Roger on a walk, winding through the footpaths around the inn. They didn’t speak at all as they walked, but it was an easy, good silence. The night air was crisp in her lungs and Diana’s legs were glad for the challenge as they climbed a steep incline up to the top of a rocky hill.

“There’s a shortcut through a field,” she said, pointing, the first to speak in half an hour. Cullen looked at her with steady eyes.

“I’d rather take the long way back.”

And so they did.


	7. Spring 6: Proposition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to DragonQueenAndHerBear for being an excellent proofreader and catching my unintentional typo that I made in the last chapter. ;)

Diana spent most of the next day with Cullen. They took hikes in the hills and walked the perimeter of the nearby lake; it was a much safer place to have a conversation about her true identity than inside the walls of the inn. Roger, of course, joined them but did occasionally venture off to chase after bird or investigate a particularly alluring patch of grass.

The conversation was hard sometimes. He would ask her questions about where she had been and why and when her body would tense with an uncomfortable feeling he would distract her by pointing out a rock he thought looked like Iron Bull.

It was… pleasant.

Suddenly, she felt a little guilty. For months, Rosalie had been doing the same thing as Cullen. She had been taking Diana on errands, making her go on walks, getting her out of bed, and making sure she was bathed regularly. But it hadn’t ever felt like this; she had always been Lena with Rosalie. Every response to Rosalie was always guarded and calculated to maintain her lies. 

With Cullen, she didn’t have to think about lies and she didn’t have to worry about her Lena mask slipping. She could just be Diana, for the first time in months. What that meant - and who, exactly, Diana was now - she didn’t know.

“We, ah,” Cullen cleared his throat suddenly, stopping to pick up a sizable stick from the footpath they were walking. He grunted as he threw it for Roger and the muscles in Cullen’s back and arms flexed against his maroon tunic. “We leave tomorrow.”

Diana nodded in acknowledgment. He had told her all about the sanctuary he was establishing near Highever; it would be home to templars who had left the Order and needed help, whether that help was coin or shelter or health treatments. The construction of the facility was near completion and he needed to return to oversee it.

“I didn’t really plan on how to ask you this,” he said, looking very uncomfortable. He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck. “I probably should have. It’s a big thing to ask - and don’t feel, ah, obligated to say yes, it’s only an offer, but I….  was wondering if you might want to accompany me -  _ us!  _ \- to Highever.”

Diana could feel her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. She must have looked alarmed, because Cullen quickly continued.

“You don’t have to stay forever and if you don’t like it you can return here - or anywhere, you’re obviously free to come and go wherever you please and - Maker, Rosalie should have asked you this, she would have done it much better...”

Cullen looked miserable, embarrassed, and more flustered than she had ever seen him before.

“I - I can’t,” she muttered, gaze dropping to the ground. Anywhere but his face. She didn’t want to see the disappointment. “I’m sorry. I need to get back to the inn.”

Diana turned and ran.

She ran and ran and ran. Her lungs were on fire and her legs, which weren’t used to this kind of exercise anymore, were screaming in protest. She ignored them and continued at a merciless pace. Alec, who had been outside chopping wood, called out to her as she bolted past the inn without stopping.

The small wooded area near town slowed her down. Thin branches whipped in her face and she could feel beads of blood pooling on her cheeks and then dribbling down her face before falling onto her shirt. She very nearly lost a boot when she stepped into a deep mud puddle, but with a furious tug it came free and Diana finally lost her balanced and tipped into a tree. The rough bark scraped her palm as she tried to steady herself.

Her breaths came in painful gasps. 

Her legs hurt and her heart hurt and she cried as she sank to the ground at the base of the tree, drawing her legs up to her chest. She was so tired. So tired of feeling like this, of feeling lost and angry and sad and hurt all at once or perhaps even worse - feeling nothing for weeks at a time. It was too much for her, too much for one person. She was tired of remembering all the terrible things that had happened to her, tired of pretending to be someone else.

Cullen had returned to her life and things had been better because of his soft voice coaxing her back to life, but he couldn’t stop everything entirely. He could only be a temporary fix. She was tired of getting temporary fixes from the Rutherford family. It was selfish. How could she distract him from his work - his good, honorable, selfless work with other templars? But how could she stay with Rosalie, who was starting a family soon and didn’t need some ragged stranger sapping her attention from the baby she’d eventually have? Where was her place?

Diana cried for a long while before she pulled herself up from the ground. Her conscience was tugging her back to the inn. Rosalie would be worried if Cullen returned without her and she would be extra worried if Diana wasn’t back by nighttime. It wasn’t quite dark yet, but the sun was sinking low to the horizon and catching the clouds aflame as it did so. The third feast would be starting soon, if it hadn’t already.

She started back, walking this time instead of running.

The sun had fully disappeared by the time she drew near to the inn, but the cheery lanterns Rosalie and Alec lit every night marked the path well enough. Alec was sitting on a bench outside the front of the inn, whittling something in the candlelight. He stood as he heard her approach.

“Rosalie’s been worried,” he said, but his voice was warm and kind. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“I just needed time alone,” Diana said, stepping into the light of the inn. Her face, scratched and lightly bloodied from all of the tree branches, made Alec wince. He pulled a kerchief from his pocket and handed it to her so she could try to dab the blood from her face.

“Looks like you spent your alone time in some thorns,” he said, studying her carefully. He paused, sat back down on his bench, and then motioned for her to join him. She did, still blotting away at her bloodied skin. “I suppose you were upset because Cullen asked you to go with him to Highever.”

She blinked. “You... knew he was going to ask me?”

“Of course I did. He asked Rosalie and I what we thought about it and we told him we thought it was a good idea.”

Her heart sank. “You did?”

Alec held up a hand. “Hold on a moment, let me explain. I want to make sure some things are clear to you. Rosalie and I love you. We’ve enjoyed having you here, we like your company, and would be happy if you stayed. That being said... we gave our opinion to Cullen because we want _ you _ to be happy. You looked happier since he arrived and if he could do that in a few days, imagine what a few weeks or months could do.”

She looked down at her hand and the bloodied handkerchief clenched in her palm.

“Cullen has been through a lot. He doesn’t talk about it much, but I know he has. And I know you have, too, even if you don’t tell us, either. I think you’re birds of a feather, somehow.”

Diana swallowed hard. She could feel her heart thumping in her chest and something warm rising with each beat: hope. “I don’t want to be a burden to you or Cullen.”

“If you were a burden, we wouldn’t have let you stay. And Cullen wouldn’t have invited you to go,” Alec said patiently. “I’m not upset that you didn’t go with him. I’m only sad that you seem so certain nothing can ever be better than this, Lena.”

The words fell out of her mouth before she could stop them.

“My name isn’t Lena. It’s Diana Trevelyan. And... I think you’re right. I should go with Cullen.”

Alec didn’t look surprised by her true identity; he only look sad. “Oh, love... a messenger came about an hour ago. It must have been important; he didn’t tell us where he was going, just took his men and-”

She didn’t hear the rest of what Alec was saying. Cullen was gone. And she had missed her chance to go with him. 


	8. Spring 7: Departure

There was no word from Cullen for over a month. In that time, things improved at the Owl Roost Inn. Shortly after telling Alec her true identity, she sought out Rosalie and told her, as well. Rosalie didn’t look surprised, either, and wasn’t angry about the deception.

“You had your reasons. I’m not going to question them - or you,” Rosalie said, shrugging. “We’ve all got secrets, right? Yours just, ah… happened to be a bigger one.”

The acceptance was freeing. Diana felt like a crushing weight had been eased from her chest and she was finally,  _ finally _ able to talk to Rosalie without worrying about if she was keeping her lies consistent or not. The pair of women became closer than ever, going on frequent outings together as Rosalie’s belly began to show evidence of new life.

One afternoon as Rosalie and Diana were sitting on benches in front of the inn, a messenger came with a letter. The innkeeper, who set her clothes mending aside, took one look at the letter and then thrust it toward Diana. “It’s for you.”

The outside of the letter was addressed to Lena, but the inside started with her actual name.

_ Diana, _

_ This letter comes with three apologies: an apology for asking you to join me at Highever, an apology for leaving without saying goodbye, and an apology for the lack of letters. I promise you that I haven’t been able to write to you until now or I would have done so. Leliana asked for a favor and I owed her one. It was time sensitive and needed to be done discreetly, so I couldn’t leave you any details. _

_ I hope you can forgive me.  _

_ We’re headed for Highever, now. Maybe by the time you get this letter, we’ll already have arrived. It’s daring of me to imagine you’d write back to me, but I know every time I see a messenger I’ll still hope. _

_ Cullen _

“Why do you get a letter and I don’t? I’m his sister!” Rosalie grumbled, but her half-smile betrayed that she didn’t really mind. After a moment, she continued, her words chosen carefully in order to sound casual. “You know, we do have ink and parchment if you’re… what?”

Diana’s dark eyebrows were raised. “You’re not very subtle, Rosalie.”

“What?! I don’t - I’m just - sorry for wanting to be helpful!” Rosalie squawked, folding her arms over her chest. “Write back or don’t write back. I couldn’t care less. I have no interest whatsoever in either of you.”

Diana laughed slightly, folding the letter carefully. “Alright then, I won’t write back.”

The two women sat in a tense silence for several minutes, both stubbornly refusing to look at each other. Finally, Rosalie threw up her hands. “You’re really not going to write back? You two spend every moment together when he’s here and then you - where are you going?”

The former Inquisitor had stood and was now smiling smugly. “To write a letter.”

Rosalie scoffed loudly as Diana disappeared into the inn.

_ Cullen, _

_ I don’t accept any of your apologies because they’re not needed. Two of those things were out of your control and one was my fault, so please accept  _ my _ apology for how I reacted. I would explain why I felt like that, but I don’t think there’s enough parchment in Thedas to explain how I was feeling, even if I knew where to begin. _

_ I’m sending this letter to Highever. I hope you’re there by the time it arrives but in case you’re not, know it’s been waiting for you. _

_ Diana _

_ P.S. You can address my letters to Diana. I told Alec and Rosalie. _

_ P.P.S. If you continue writing letters, that is.  _

Alec took the letter to town to send with a messenger. Diana felt a low buzz in her stomach as she watched him disappear over a hill. Maybe she shouldn’t have written anything after her name. Cullen was bound to busy overlooking the sanctuary; he didn’t need to worry about writing letters to her.

A small, steely voice grew in her heart.  _ Or you should have written more, told him you hope he writes again, should have told him you miss him, should have- _

She silenced it. She didn’t wish to make this more complicated than it already was.

* * *

Cullen did continue writing letters. 

And Diana continued writing back.

Over the course of two months, a thick stack of Cullen’s letters formed on the table in her bedroom. While waiting for a new letter to arrive, Diana found herself rereading them.

They talked about absolutely everything. She would describe a particularly delicious new cake Rosalie had made (and attach a recipe, should he wish to try it) and he would tell her about Roger’s antics or a new templar that had arrived at the sanctuary. Sometimes he mentioned how the spring rains had made the grass grow tall and how he was looking forward to the warm sun of summer.

Every letter was pleasant, well-written, and entertaining.

Diana hated them.

Writing to Cullen wasn’t the same. They each had too much time to choose their words when they wrote letters. The honesty, the intensity of his amber eyes couldn’t be seen in ink. She didn’t feel the same strength she did when she was next to him in person; it was harder to be open with one another in a letter.

It felt like she was pretending again. Like they both were.

She took longer and longer to write back to Cullen. He wrote back just as quickly as ever. Eventually, she stopped writing altogether. Guilt settled into her over the course of a week. She was letting him down.

“Are you alright?” Rosalie asked one day when Diana didn’t get out of bed until well past noon. 

Diana didn’t answer. They both knew the answer to that question: no. No, she wasn’t okay. She was drifting back again, back into being Lena. Back into ignoring everything that was hard to talk about, back into feeling nothing and staring into an endless void.

Rosalie left her alone. She didn’t come back until the morning, when she brought a plate of breakfast to Diana. “Please eat something, love,” she said quietly. “This came earlier.”

The blonde woman pulled a thin letter from her apron pocket and sat it into the bed next to Diana before leaving again, pulling the door shut quietly behind her. It took far too long for Diana to summon the energy to sit up and inspect the letter. The handwriting on the outside was Cullen’s, but she wondered what the contents could be.

Whereas his other letters had been growing in length and detail, becoming thick and heavy, this one was tiny and light. She opened it.

_ I miss you. _

_ Yours, _

_ Cullen. _

Her heart thrummed in her chest, throat tightening as she looked down at the letter. Why did she feel this way? Tears blurred her vision before she swiped them away with the back of her hand. 

Then Diana stood up from the bed so quickly that the letter fluttered, forgotten, to the floor. She tore around her room, quickly emptying the contents of her dresser and chest into her leather pack. In her haste, she tipped the wooden chair over and the loud clattering brought both Rosalie and Alec running into her room.

“What are you doing?” Rosalie asked, looking alarmed as she stood in the doorway.

“Seems pretty clear to me,” Alec was beaming, white teeth flashing against dark skin. “She’s leaving.”

“Leaving? For where?”

Diana looked up from where she was trying to stuff her feet into her boots. Breathlessly, she said one word. “Highever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand that's the end of spring. :)
> 
> This chapter feels kind of rushed but I miss Cullen and don't need to spend two chapters describing the life we've already seen Diana live, SO. OH WELL.
> 
> I listened to a cool playlist while writing this and it made me love Cullen even more, haha. If you search "Cullen Rutherford by vixphilia playlist" it comes up. Worth a listen if you want a soundtrack to read by!


	9. Summer 1: Reunion

Rosalie convinced Diana to take a bath and eat some breakfast while Alec went in search of a horse for her long journey. She obeyed wordlessly, washing grime and sweat from her body while her mind raced at a high speed. Once dry and in clothes, Diana even let Rosalie braid her hair back away from her face, though it took longer because the former Inquisitor was nearly shaking with nervous, excited energy.

“Fresh and clean for the journey,” Rosalie said, surveying Diana with her hands on her hips. “Good. It’s going to be a long one. You know the way to Highever?”

“Nothing is going to stop me from getting there,” Diana said, determination creasing her brow as she pulled her boots on for the second time that morning. “But… if you have a map, I wouldn’t say no.”

“I’ll fetch you one. I’m also going to pack some food for you, alright? Don’t you dare forget to eat. If I get word from Cullen that you’ve arrived looking half-starved I’ll come up there and wring your neck. Okay?” Rosalie asked sternly, but there was worry behind her eyes. “Please. Be careful.”

“If she can handle saving the world, I think she can handle riding a horse for a week,” Alec spoke from the doorway, smiling. Through the window in her room, she could see a dappled horse tied to a post outside. “I put a map in the saddlebag along with some of those rolls Rosalie made last night.”

“Thank you,” Diana said, slinging her pack over her shoulder. She straightened her tunic with her hand, then looked up to see both Alec and Rosalie watching her with curious expressions. “What?”

“Nothing,” Rosalie said, turning to leave Diana’s bedroom. Her voice was choked with tears as she went down the hallway, muttering under her breath as she went to pack more food into Diana’s saddlebag. “Maker’s breath, this baby is making me emotional…”

“She’s happy,” Alec assured Diana after seeing the look of concern on her face. “We both are.”

The tears in Rosalie’s eyes ended up falling as soon as Diana swung up onto her horse in front of the inn. “You’d better write to us - often - both you and Cullen!” Rosalie said, using her palm to wipe away tears from her cheeks. “And you have to come back when the baby is born. You’re the godmother!”

“I will, I promise,” Diana said, smiling as she gripped the reins of the horse. She, Alec, and Rosalie finished saying their tearful goodbyes before she started off down the road at a brisk pace. It was a little uncomfortable at first. She hadn’t ridden a horse in several months and only being able to use one arm while riding a horse wasn’t the easiest thing, either. 

The horse itself (named Tulip; her name was embroidered on her saddle) was experienced and well-trained. Diana wondered if Alec had picked this horse on purpose. Tulip seemed to know where she wanted to go and needed very little guidance as she followed the long road toward Highever. She was definitely stubborn, though; every night when she had decided they had ridden far enough that day, Tulip would stop and refuse to budge.

Maybe with a less stubborn horse it wouldn’t have taken her so long to get to Highever… but then again, maybe a less experienced horse would haven’t navigated through the terrain so well. Even as the ground became rockier as they rode toward Highever on the sixth day, the horse didn’t falter. 

The terrain got harder and steeper as she rode toward Highever. The weather, too, was changing. Spring rolled into a hot summer that made Diana stop often to let Tulip rest in shade and eat some dewy grass by a riverbank. 

On the eighth morning, after climbing a particularly steep hill, she saw a settlement in the distance. It wasn’t quite in the right position to be Highever, nor was it as large, which meant it had to be Cullen’s sanctuary.  

It was larger than she expected it to be. Even from this distance, she could tell it was comprised of several building spread out over a decent sized area. The buildings were stone with freshly built wooden roofs. At one end of the property, which was framed by a fence that was stone in some places and wood in other, there was a large area with newly tilled soil. Several people were out in what Diana assumed would eventually be a garden. 

Her heart sped up as she got closer to the sanctuary. Two figures were sitting near a wide wooden gate, playing a game on what looked to be a chess board balanced on a stump of a tree. “Good day, my lady!” One of the figures greeted her, standing as Diana approached. She dismounted Tulip. “What brings you here?”

The figure that spoke was a woman, with wild red hair poofing out in every direction. The person that had been sitting with the redhead was also a woman, with coily black hair pulled back into several long, thin braids. She didn’t speak.

“I’m here to see Cullen Rutherford,” Diana said, her voice trembling slightly as she said his name. “I’m a friend of his.”

“Mmmmm,” the redheaded woman said, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. “Don’t think he’s here.”

Diana’s heart dropped and her grip on Tulip’s reins tightened as the world began to spin.

“No, he’s here, Sandrine. They got back this morning,” the woman with the braided hair said, looking at the redheaded woman whose name must have been Sandrine. 

“Oh, my mistake!” Sandrine said cheerfully, swinging the wide gate open. “I’ll show you to his office, then. Flora, take her horse to the stables, would you? If you’re planning on staying long, that is, my lady.”

Diana smiled slightly, her heartbeat still recovering from the frightening thought that Cullen might be away and she had ridden all this way for nothing. “As long as possible.”

She handed Tulip’s reins to Flora, who wordlessly led the horse away to a modestly sized stable near the front gate. Sandrine and Diana walked in silence toward a long building that had a fancier-looking entrance than the others. The stonework on this wasn’t so plain and the wood timbers around the door had noble looking lions carved into them. 

Sandrine knocked on the door. “Visitor, Rutherford!”

“Send them in!”

Her stomach fluttered. It was Cullen’s voice. He sounded grouchy and tired and thoroughly overwhelmed (she had heard him sound like this so many times during the Inquisition) but it was him.

She entered. Sandrine closed the door behind Diana, departing back toward the gate.

His office was cozy, covered with tapestries and rugs. An empty fireplace was on one wall, waiting for colder weather. Cullen himself sat behind a large desk, his fingers massaging his temple as he strained to read a piece of parchment.

Diana looked at him for a moment, savoring the time before he noticed her. He looked the same, but tired. Dark circles hung like crescent moons beneath his eyes and he looked like he needed a good night’s sleep. She remembered Sandrine and the other woman had said he had been gone. Whatever had called him away must have been stressful.

She cleared her throat. 

Her heart lurched in her chest as, for the first time in nearly two months, his amber eyes found hers. 

“Diana,” he said breathlessly, standing. 

She smiled. “You look tired,” she said, surprised at how strong her voice sounded. It wasn’t wavering or faltering or flitting around like her heart was.

“You look-” he began quietly, but then stopped as a flush extended down his cheeks. He was staring at her like he couldn’t quite believe she was there, drinking in her appearance. Blood bloomed on her cheeks, heat rising in her face as his eyes roamed over her. When he spoke again, his voice was a sweet whisper. “You look wonderful.”

She shifted, her eyes drifting away from his. “I look like someone who’s been on a horse for a week,” she said with a small, slightly awkward laugh.

“I didn’t know you were coming or I would have - I just got back, everything’s a mess - “ he said, gesturing to his office with a sweep of his arm. He only briefly looked away to indicate the piles of paper before his eyes went back to her. 

They locked eyes for a moment and then something was tugging at her feet, pulling Diana into the room. Cullen’s gaze tracked her as she moved around his desk, his tongue coming out to moisten his lips. His mouth opened and he looked like he was about to speak, but thought better of it.

She stopped two feet away from him. “I…” she trailed off, voice wavering. Diana cleared her throat. “I missed you, too.”

She wasn’t sure if he moved first or if she did, but suddenly she was pulled close, her arm automatically moving to wrap around his warm body. Cullen hugged her tightly, breath upon the top of her head as her cheek was pressed against his chest. She could hear his heart thumping; it seemed to be following the same frantic rhythm as hers.


	10. Summer 2: Tour

She stayed in his arms until the beating of her heart returned to a semi-normal pace.  Diana pulled away from him slowly, her cheeks pink as she glanced at him. “Sorry,” she said with a small, sheepish laugh.

He laughed, too, low and soft. “Never apologize for _that_ , Diana,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand for a moment. Then Cullen looked at her, eyes soft. “It’s been too long since I’ve been able to say your name.”

Diana smiled. “Not talking about me to your templars?”

“Ah, no,” he said, shaking his head slightly. “Not much time for chatting. We’ve only finally gotten everything arranged and then I was away for a week.”

Her gaze settled on the dark circles beneath his eyes. “Do you want me to go so you can sleep?”

“No! I mean - no, thank you, I’m fine,” Cullen assured her, then gestured to the door. He looked excited, suddenly. “Can I show you the sanctuary?”

She nodded and then they were out the door and exploring the grounds. Cullen spent the better part of an hour talking animatedly, showing her the buildings and explaining the future plans he had for the sanctuary. Apparently they also owned the land surrounding the fenced-in area, just in case they ever needed to expand.

As of right now, most of the buildings weren’t permanently occupied. Three of the buildings would eventually be barrack-like living quarters, but right now mostly had empty bed frames with no mattresses or sheets. Another building was a large dining hall with a big kitchen on one end. The pantry there was maybe a tenth full; she imagined any other food would go to waste.

“How many people are here? Besides you?” Diana asked as they walked. She was very, very aware of how close their hands were swinging as they walked. If she wanted, she could have held his hand just by moving a few inches.

“Nearly twenty so far. You met Sandrine and her wife, Flora, at the gate... Sandrine was a templar and Flora’s a mage - a healer. They showed up here before the buildings were even built. Apparently they had heard a rumor about a sanctuary and came immediately.”  

“That was brave of them,” Diana said, surprised. What if they had traveled and it had only been that - a rumor?

Cullen shrugged. “Everyone here has a similar story. I haven’t had a chance to hear all of them, yet, but I know everyone must be brave. Brave to leave the templars or brave to admit to needing help or brave to-”

“Brave to stop taking lyrium,” she said quietly. Cullen glanced at her.

“I… suppose, yes,” he said, as if it had never crossed his mind that he had been brave when making his decision. “I didn’t think you would remember that.”

“I remember everything,” she said, frowning. At least, she was starting to. For a few months there had been gaps here and there and some memories had been foggy. But now, as she was no longer so afraid of acknowledging everything that had happened to her - everything that had happened to _them_  - it was coming back.  

That meant the ordeal in the future at Redcliffe was coming back, sharper in detail than it had ever been and so was the last showdown against Corypheus and the hunt for Solas and her arm and -

Warm fingers touched her hand, gently. Her attention snapped back to Cullen, who was looking at her with concerned eyes. “Sorry,” she said quietly, shaking her head as if to remove the thoughts which were plaguing her. “How do you know how to do this?”

“Do what?” he asked, releasing her hand reluctantly.

“How to do this - how to make it easier? How to make it not so overwhelming and…” she trailed off. “How to make it feel like it will be better someday?”

Cullen frowned, looking off into the distance as he spoke. “The same way you know how to do anything - you learn. I had help. Even at Skyhold. Iron Bull was the first to notice my, ah, preoccupation with the past and the resulting stress. He told me some exercises that he knew helped people ground themselves in the present. At first, I was embarrassed. Furious, even, that I had let it become so obvious that someone had noticed.”

“I’m surprised Bull needs techniques like that. He seems so untouchable.”

“Whether he uses them or his Chargers do or he just has general knowledge on internal battles - I don’t know. He also made a lewd suggestion about some other things I could do to make myself feel better, but those - those are not fit to mention,” Cullen said with a blush and a cough. “Anyway, Bull must have told Dorian because he brought me a book on the subject. That helped a lot, too. I have a copy in my quarters if you’d like to borrow it sometime.”

Diana nodded, then looked around at the buildings. They had been into every building so far, except for the stables, and she hadn’t seen anything that looked like the quarters of a commander. “Where are your quarters?” she asked.

“In the same building as my office. They’re connected with a door,” Cullen said. She tried to remember his office and whether or not she had seen a door. Maybe she had missed it. He cleared his throat. “Eventually there will be a copy in the library, as well… when we get around to building one.”

She smiled at the enthusiasm in his voice as he mentioned the future plans for the library. “You seem eager.”

“Because I am. There’s been a need for a place like this for a long time. I’m proud to be-”

“Rutherford! I’ve got some letters for you here!” They turned and saw a wiry man with salt-and-pepper hair jogging over to them. He acknowledged Diana with a nod and a curious expression. “Visitor? You a templar? Where’s your arm? What-”

“ _John,_ ” Cullen hissed, snatching the parchment from the man’s hands.

She laughed at Cullen’s mortified expression. John shrugged, seemingly not bothered at all by Cullen’s scolding. “Yes, a visitor but not a templar. And my arm is not here, as you can see; it was cut off by the elven god of betrayal.”

John stared at her. “ _Right_ ,” he said slowly, with a low whistle following it. “Well, anyway, welcome to our little sanctuary. Name’s John, as you probably figured out. I do the combat exercises around here. If you need anything or get tired of Rutherford let me know and I can show you around, instead.”

“Thanks,” Diana said with a small smile, her eyes drifting over to Cullen. He was concentrating very hard on reading the letters, a crease of worry between his eyebrows. “Trouble?”

“No - I - maybe,” he admitted, amber eyes flashing to meet hers. “I need to send a raven. I’m sorry, Diana. I don’t mean to rush off-”

“Go,” Diana said, giving him an understanding smile. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

Cullen smiled apologetically, then turned and walked at a quick pace back to his office. She turned to John and saw him scrutinizing her carefully. “Diana? As in Diana Trevelyan?”

“Yes,” she said, suddenly feeling quite nervous. But it seemed her apprehension wasn’t needed, because John broke into a grin.

“Very nice to meet you. Thanks for saving the world... I live here and I’ve kind of become attached to doing so, so… thank you,” he said pleasantly, then motioned toward her arm. “Hadn’t heard you lost the arm. Did you really get it cut off by an elven god?”

She laughed. “Yes. He was saving my life, technically, but…”

“But still, what an arsehole,” John said, thoughtfully rubbing his stubble.

“What an arsehole,” she agreed.

* * *

In Cullen’s absence, John showed her around and introduced her to the other residents of the sanctuary. She saw Sandrine again; the redhead was doing some kind of meditative stretching in a patch of sun, instructing a small gathering of others on how to follow the poses.

“I tried that, once. Hurt like hell. Never realized how inflexible I was until I tried to do what she does,” John said with a wince, rubbing his side like he could still feel a pulled muscle. “S’relaxing, supposedly. Not for me - I don’t find pain particularly relaxing.”

Eventually, after all introductions were made and questions answered (at least half of the residents recognized her as the Inquisitor and had a lot of things to ask), John led her to the dining hall for lunch. They stepped inside and the smell of herby, roasted meat hit her nose.

“Maker, I’m hungry,” John moaned slightly. They stepped into a line of people who were waiting to pick up a plate of what looked to be roasted rabbit. “Leo does the cooking. He’s a genius. Never had such good food. He apparently used to be a blacksmith’s apprentice - or something like that - making weapons for the Chantry. Waste of talent.”

Her stomach growled hungrily as she picked up a plate of food from the countertop. A sandy-haired boy who looked to be about fifteen, gave her a small nod and shy smile as she expressed her thanks.  

“I think the best meal I ever had here - so far - was some potato and cabbage soup, if you can believe it. Used to hate the stuff as a kid, but Leo does good work,” John prattled on and on about the food and the different meals he had eaten at the sanctuary. They found a seat at an empty table that was soon filled by Sandrine, Flora, and some of the other residents that Diana had met.

“Your food is going to get cold,” Sandrine said, pointing her fork at John’s plate. He frowned, then started cutting into the meat. Sandrine laughed. “The only way to get him to shut his mouth is to put some food in it.”

Flora giggled. “Even when John’s sleeping, he snores so loudly you can hear it halfway across Thedas.”

Diana smiled and fell quiet as she listened to their conversations and ate her rabbit. John was right - it was delicious. The potatoes that accompanied it tasted like they had been fried in the fat from the rabbit; the flavor was deep and savory.

When she was nearly finished, she heard someone clearing their throat and the noise made her look up. Cullen was standing next to John, holding a plate of food and looking at the wiry man expectantly.

“What do you want?” John asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Trying to find a place to sit,” Cullen said evenly, pointedly looking at John.

The man looked incredulous. “Well, sit down somewhere, you loon,” John looked around and then jerked a thumb at a nearby table. “Look, there’s a space over there.”

Cullen sighed, then reached around John to pick up the man’s almost-empty plate. He moved closer to the nearby table and the metal plate made a noise at it dropped to the table.

“Well,” John said, exasperated as he looked toward Diana. He was grumbling as he stood from the bench, moving to sit at the other table. “Guess I’m gonna fuck right off, then. Man can’t even eat his lunch in peace…”

The other residents at the table had watched Cullen and John’s exchange with raised eyebrows, but all were suddenly very concentrated on finishing their meals as the former Commander sat down next to Diana.

“Hello,” he said quietly to her.

“Hello,” she said, willing the heat she felt on her cheeks to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to upload this last night, but my power went out for a few hours. :( No electricity = no computer and also no WiFi! I replied to a couple comments on my phone but I didn't want to attempt to upload and format a new chapter on my iPhone haha! Sorry for the lateness!
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has left comments so far! I really love them and they definitely keep me going. Thank you so much! Please leave more! <3


	11. Summer 3: Conversations

The conversation was casual as Cullen ate his meal (everyone seemed to be ignoring John’s loud complaining) and within fifteen minutes the dining hall emptied out. Diana watched Sandrine and Flora leave, hands clasped, and then turned to Cullen.

“I have questions,” she said. 

Cullen cleared his throat, putting his fork down onto his plate with a gentle clink. “About?”

“About you. About this place. Who is paying for all of this? Where did everybody come from? What does everyone spend their day doing? How-”

He smiled. “Maker’s breath, you have a lot of questions. John didn’t answer those?”

“I didn’t ask him anything,” Diana confessed, shoulders giving a tiny shrug. When Cullen had left her side to go send his raven, her confidence deflated a bit and she had therefore let John do most of the talking. The initial elation of being reunited with her -  _ friend _ \- had worn off and left her very conscious that she was in an entirely new place with an entirely new group of people and everyone here knew she was the Inquisitor. 

“Ah. Let me see,” he said thoughtfully, taking a long drink out of his cup. “Eventually, I want us to support ourselves by offering services: healing, training, mercenary work… anything anyone can do that’s useful and good for others. My goal is to be entirely self-sufficient.”

She hadn’t missed the key word. “Eventually?”

“Right now, with so few of us… we’re mostly operating on loans. The Teyrn of Highever, Fergus, has invested a large amount in our property and although he’s never specified a repayment schedule, I’m trying to prepare for the day when he does. For now, we’re not going anywhere. I’m not worried about our demise just yet.”

She forced a smile, but she was thinking quickly. Diana wasn’t poor; when the Inquisition had been dissolved she had received a generous portion of their coffers… not to mention whatever inheritance she had as a Trevelyan. Josephine, who she had placed in charge of her accumulating wealth, must have a way to-

Cullen cleared his throat. She glanced at him; he looked rather nervous. “I neglected to ask you earlier because I didn’t want to make you feel like you have to stay, but... I can have someone set up a bed for you in the barracks if you’d like.”

She tensed up for a moment, then forced herself to relax with a deep breath she hoped he didn’t notice. “If you’re sure it’s okay,” Diana said hesitantly, nervously running a hand through her dark curls. She wasn’t sure why she found this offer so nerve wracking; of course she would need a place to sleep if she stayed here. Maybe it was just that this offer made her frantic journey to Highever seem more real… she was really here, really with Cullen, and she had really left her only home for the past six months.

“Of course I’m sure,” he said and then his voice softened. “You’re… you’re always welcome wherever I am, Diana. I hope you know that.”

Her throat felt like it was swelling and she could only nod silently. He seemed to know she was trying to find the words for what she wanted to say and so Cullen waited patiently. “Everything you’ve done for me…” she trailed off, then licked her lips as suddenly her entire mouth was dry. “I don’t know how to tell you how much… I don’t know how to thank you.”

His eyes were soft and intense. “You’re here. That’s enough,” he said, voice low.

She didn’t know what to do with the intensity in his eyes, didn’t know what to do with this man who was so open about pain and suffering and so optimistic for rehabilitation and recovery. In a way, he frightened her. How did the man she had known during the Inquisition grow to become the man sitting in front of her, the one who was confronting his demons every day of his life? He was powerful and that, too, scared her.

* * *

 

It wasn’t long until Cullen was called away again, gone off to give an opinion about something or other. She was ashamed to admit she was a tiny bit relieved; his burning presence was beginning to make her stomach flutter uncontrollably. 

After a while, the door to the hall opened and there was Flora, smiling as she saw Diana. “I’m supposed to show you to your new quarters. And there’s someone who’s very excited to be reunited with you.”

She searched her mind, panic rising into a ball in her stomach. Reunited? In theory, Cullen was the only one she had met before. Her heart raced. Leliana? That woman knew everything, maybe she had found Diana’s true location and sought her out. She wasn’t sure if she could-

“Ah, here he is,” Flora said, opening the door to the dining hall a bit wider. A flash of gray and white fur sped through the door and into Diana, knocking her from the dining bench onto the floor.

“Roger!” Diana said, pleased as he began to enthusiastically lick her face. She struggled to get to her feet and Roger stayed by her side, his hindquarters wiggling with pure joy. “I was wondering where you were.”

“He goes off into the hills, sometimes. I think he likes all the open space. Occasionally he’ll bring you back a rabbit or a quail, if he likes you,” Flora nodded toward where the mabari was licking her palm as she petted him. “He clearly loves you. That’s good. He doesn’t like Leo, but I think that’s just because he has his cat...”

The mage nodded over to the kitchen, where Leo was dangling pieces of rabbit out for a furry gray cat to bat. The sandy-haired teen looked over, hearing his name, and gave them both a shy wave. A low growl hummed in Roger’s chest.

“Easy, boy,” Diana said, running her hand over his massive head.

“We’ll leave,” Flora said, jerking her head toward the door. The two women bid goodbye to Leo and then left the dining hall. Diana began to walk toward the barracks, but stopped when she noticed that Flora wasn’t following her. 

“Aren’t we going to…?” 

“We have guest quarters,” Flora said, nodding toward a building near Cullen’s office.

“Oh. I didn’t realize-”

“Didn’t realize you were a guest?” Flora asked, smiling. “Of course. By all means, if you’d rather stay in the barracks, you’re more than welcome. Cullen just thought you’d be more comfortable in a space of your own. He mentioned you have trouble sleeping.”

Her face burned and Diana only tightly nodded as they walked.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed. If you were cut, would you hesitate to ask for a wrapping? No, you wouldn’t,” Flora said, sounding like she had said this phrase a thousand times before. “Being hurt isn’t shameful; even if it’s your mind that needs healing. That’s the belief that this whole place was built upon.”

Diana didn’t answer. 

“I used to have nightmares all the time. Used to shake when I was out in open spaces,” Flora said casually, tucking a long black braid behind her ear. “Do you think I’m weak?”

The former Inquisitor balked at her. “No! Of course not. I can’t imagine what you’ve-”

“Right, you’d never say it about someone else. But you’d say it about yourself? Call yourself weak, say you need to be stronger?” Diana’s open mouth snapped shut as Flora looked steadily ahead. “If you said it to anyone else, it’d be mean. You shouldn’t be mean to yourself; you were the first friend you ever had in the world.”

Diana was silent as they reached the guest quarters. Flora was right, but recognizing that someone’s words made sense and actually changing her own thoughts to match was something entirely different - and difficult. 

Her room wasn’t large, but it was furnished comfortably. There was a small brazier near the only window and down the hall from her room (and several other rooms that shared the building) was a washroom with a bathtub and fireplace for heating water. Everything was bright, clean, and new.

“I brought your packs from your horse. Tulip, right?” Flora asked, pointing to a small pile of bags she had put into a corner of Diana’s room. Roger was sniffing them with great interest. “If you find that you need something you don’t have, feel free to inspect the store room for whatever you need. And if it’s not there, just ask anyone and we can get one sent from Highever.”

“How far is Highever?” Diana wondered. 

“Not long. An hour if you’re walking,” Flora said. She motioned to Diana’s bed. “I know your journey here was rather long. If you’d like to rest for a while, I can make sure no one disturbs you. Or feel free to take a bath - there are different oils and herbs and such in a small cupboard in the washroom.”

Diana smiled. “Are you telling me that I stink?”

“As politely as possible,” Flora deadpanned, then broke into a grin. “You don’t, I promise, I just wanted to make sure you knew the option was available.”

“Thank you. I might.”

Flora nodded and turned to leave, but hesitated in Diana’s doorway. “After dinner, some of us meet in the barracks… we talk. Share stories, share dreams, share thoughts. Things like that. I think it helps, if you’re interested. Shows you’re not so alone.”

That explained where Flora’s very practiced-sounding speech had come from; she probably led these talks. Diana gave a noncommittal shrug, unsure if she wanted to open her heart and mind to a bunch of people she had only just met. 

“That’s fine, there’s no pressure to join,” the mage said, then gave a small wave. “I’ll see you later. Rest up.”

“Goodbye,” Diana said, shutting the door to her room as Flora left. She turned and saw Roger had already made himself comfortable on her small bed and she struggled to stretch out in the space around him. She fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, kudos'd, favorited, etc so far! <3 Y'all keep me going, for real. :)


	12. Summer 4: Pond

When she woke, she panicked for a moment as her eyes focused on unfamiliar surroundings. Where- her hand touched warm fur. Roger. Right, she was at Cullen’s sanctuary, in what she supposed she could call _her_ room. Diana yawned as she sat up, Roger’s ears perking as he noticed she was now awake.

“Hi,” she said to him, stretching as she stood. Her body ached from the strange position she had napped in, thanks to Roger’s massive form. He seemed to feel no guilt over it; the mabari stood and looked well-rested and pleased with himself.

Diana wandered into the washroom. There were several buckets full of water that hadn’t been there earlier; she wondered if Flora had brought them while she had been napping. She dipped a few fingers into the water and found that it wasn’t hot, but was warm enough that she could take a bath without freezing to death.

She did just that, emptying the buckets into the deep tub with a little difficulty. The oil and herbs were right where Flora had said they were, tucked away in a small cabinet in the corner of the room. The former Inquisitor selected a few and added them to the tepid water before stripping herself of her clothes and lowering herself into the water.

While not outrageously dirty from her last stretch of travel to the sanctuary (she had bathed a few times in some inns along the way), she still felt renewed as she washed and scrubbed at her hair. Roger sat on the floor next to her, chin resting on the edge of the washtub. Every once in a while he’d let out a low whine and she’d scratch his ears until he relented.

Eventually she dressed herself in a clean, soft green tunic and dark pants. Diana and the mabari left the guest quarters. The sun was beginning to set. Roger instantly shot across the grounds in a sprint; she guessed he had somewhere important to be.

“Diana!” She turned as she heard her name, using her hand to shield her face from the light of the setting sun as it squeezed down below the hills. It was Cullen who had called her name. As he approached, she noticed his hair was damp and he had changed his shirt; apparently he too had bathed since the last time they had seen each other. He was also carrying a little pack over his shoulder.

“Finished with all your… what’s your title here, anyway?” Diana questioned.

“Officially, I believe it’s ‘overseer,’ but no one here really uses titles.”

She smiled slightly. “Well, did you finish all your overseeing?”

“I’m officially done for the evening - everything else can wait for morning,” he said, then cleared his throat. “I - I was wondering if you’d eaten anything yet.”

Diana shook her head, then motioned toward the dining hall. “Not yet. Do you… want to go to the dining hall with me?” Her stomach did that fluttery thing again.

“No,” Cullen said, then his eyes widened slightly. “Not that I don’t want to eat with you - I just don’t want to go to the dining hall. Not that there’s anything wrong with the dining hall, but I, ah, had Leo pack us some food. I thought I might... show you the surrounding area. There’s a pond and it’s very relaxing and-”

“Cullen,” she said evenly, strangely emboldened by his unsure rambling. “Let’s go.”

* * *

He led her along a faint path through the hills. For the most part they were silent as they made their way up the gentle slopes; there was only an occasional thanks as he extended his hand to help her up the rockier areas of the incline.

Finally, the pond came into view and Diana found herself smiling. It was a small pond, fed from a stream that was making gentle gurgling noises. Reeds lined the water and as the sun did its final sinking below the horizon the water was set ablaze with orange, blue, and pink. A gentle breeze made the reeds rustle together softly.

“It’s beautiful,” she said.

“It is,” he agreed, then motioned to a flat rock that jutted out into the pond. They sat and he unpacked their meal, setting out cups and a small flask of water. 

Dinner was rabbit leftover from lunch, but she didn’t mind; Leo was an excellent young cook and it had been a long time since she had wanted to eat more than one meal in a day.

“How was your first day?” Cullen asked her.

“It was good. Busier than I’m used to, but I like that,” she said, wiping her mouth with a napkin.

“Being busy makes things easier, in my experience.”

“Mine, too,” she said, then remembered her reunion with his mabari. “I saw Roger. He’s very good at tackling, isn’t he?”

“I imagine he was very excited to see you. I’m surprised he’s not here right now. He must have known that I…” Cullen trailed off, apparently losing his nerve for a moment. After a clearing of his throat, he continued with a slightly unsteady voice. “That I would rather be alone with you right now.”

The fluttering stomach and racing heart was back again. She looked away from his face, gaze settling toward the water. The sun was gone by now; only the gentle glow of the lantern Cullen had brought illuminated the pair as they sat. Slowly, lightning bugs emerged from the damp grass around the pond.

“I come here often,” he confessed. “It reminds me of a lake I would visit when I was a child, whenever I wanted to get away from my brother or sisters. I haven’t been there in a long time. Not since leaving for templar training… Branson gave me this on that day.”

He reached into a pocket, pulling out a small object that he offered to her. She took it, examining it in her palm. “A coin?”

“He told me it was lucky,” Cullen said, looking off into the small pond. “I very nearly threw it away a few times that I felt anything but lucky… but I’m glad I kept it. I’d like you to have it.”

She flushed, holding the coin out to him. “Cullen, I can’t, it’s important to you-”

“So are you,” he said, his voice so quiet it was barely more than a whisper. He looked at her and she thought his blazing eyes would set the sky on fire all over again. Diana studied him for a long moment before slowly tucking the coin into a pocket in her pants.

She didn’t know what to say. _Thank you_ seemed insufficient for the sharing of such a private, personal memory, nevermind the gift. Cullen nodded gently, his gaze returning to the water that was now deep shades of green, blue, and black.

Diana studied his profile. She wasn’t quite sure what exactly Cullen was to her, but she knew she enjoyed his company very much and there was an unspoken understanding between them. They had both been through the same kind of horrors and they both had to wake up every morning knowing there might be an inner demon to fight. He was like her, in some ways, and that made her more at ease with him than anyone else.

She hesitated before she leaned over ever so slightly, so that her shoulder was pressed against his as they sat side-by-side.

Cullen inhaled quietly, then tilted his head so that his cheek rested on her curly hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one is kinda short buuuuut I wanted to post it for that end scene. *_* What did y'all think of it? Let me know in the comments. :3


	13. Summer 5: Rhythms

Diana quickly settled into her own comforting rhythm at the sanctuary. She woke early, before the sun, and would immediately stop by the kitchen to grab an apple or a piece of good, thick bread. From there she walked to a nearby tall hill and would watch the sun rise over the gentle slopes of Highever. Some days Roger joined her; some days he didn’t. 

Usually the man that managed the correspondence - Finbar, an old ex-templar with an eyepatch- was awake by the time she walked back to the sanctuary. Once or twice a week he’d have a letter for her. Diana found herself writing letters often; she wrote many to Rosalie and Alec, but also to those who had been in the Inquisition.

One day Finbar grunted with effort as he handed her a letter and a big bottle of white wine.

_ Dear Diana, lovely Diana, missed Diana, _

_ You sound as if you are beginning to flourish! Of course, you would flourish just as well (if not better) in Antiva and we do have considerably better fashion (and weather) than Ferelden, but… to each their own.  _

_ I will come to visit the sanctuary when I am less busy with managing House Montilyet, but only if you promise to come to Antiva someday. There is so much I’d love to show you! _

_ There’s also a lot of wine. I have included a bottle of my favorite. Please toast to good health and good friendships… and to good wine, of course. _

_ Love, love, love, _

_ Josephine _

Diana shared the bottle of wine at dinner that night. Divided among around twenty residents, it didn’t go very far, but it paired well with the flaky grilled fish Leo had cooked over a big fire outside.

John’s evaluation of Leo’s cooking had been spot-on. Everything the teenager made was delicious. He had a knack for plants, too; he had an herb garden growing along one of the outdoor walls of the dining hall and he also oversaw their small vegetable garden. 

The regular food schedule was changing Diana’s body and slowly the thin concave spaces began to fill in. She was gaining strength, too; a few times a week she would train with John or Sandrine in the sparring ring. Her muscles ached after those sessions and often the trio walked around with bruises from training swords.

Cullen was busy, but he always made time for the residents - and also for Diana. They went on walks often, mostly through the hills or to their pond. They talked about the sanctuary a lot, but also spoke of the Inquisition often. 

“I miss it,” Diana realized one day as they hiked out in the hot sun. “Not the part where we all nearly died everyday or the part where people got hurt or the part where the world seemed like it was going to end, but… I miss feeling like I have something I’m supposed to do, at least.”

“You miss the purpose,” Cullen suggested.

“Exactly.”

“You have purpose here, too.”

“But here it’s different. It’s so open,” Diana said, struggling to articulate how it was different. “If I say I’ll help Sandrine water the garden and I end up not doing it, no one is going to die.”

“The plants might.”

She smiled, shaking her head. Cullen offered her a drink of water from the waterskin he had brought and she took it, taking a long gulp. Not only was it hot in Highever, but it was also humid thanks to their close proximity to the coast.

“I miss the people,” Cullen said, surprising her. Out of her advisors, he had seemed the least friendly with everyone else. Not that he had been standoffish; he had just been very focused and driven. “I don’t miss the lack of sleep.”

Whether he meant missing sleep because of nightmares or because of the immense pressure they had all felt during the Inquisition, she didn’t ask. 

“How are you sleeping?” he asked, trying to make his voice casual.

She shrugged. “I have less nightmares. And when I do have them, Roger usually wakes me up before they get too terrible.” The mabari slept in her bed most nights and when she cried out in her sleep, he would wake her with urgent licks to her face or hands. 

“Would you tell me what you dream about?”

She hesitated. She dreamed about Solas and her arm. She dreamed about the terrifying, red lyrium filled future she had seen at Redcliffe. Dreamed about people dying, about failing, dreamed about all of her secret fears and worst insecurities. “No,” she said finally, shrugging. She tried to give him a carefree smile; it came across as a grimace. “They’re getting better. I don’t want to worry you.”

“I worry about you anyway,” Cullen said, forehead creasing with thought.

Diana shrugged, not responding. She didn’t know why Cullen had taken such an interest in her general well being. Maybe he saw some of himself in her; a survivor who had seen too much. Maybe he felt obligated to, since she had been the Inquisitor. 

She didn’t mind. Diana felt better when she was around him, but beneath the soothing enjoyment of his company, guilt bloomed. What if she was just subconsciously using him to feel better - a bandage on a wound? Did she actually enjoy his company or did she only seek him out because she felt better around him?

Suddenly, she was profoundly frightened that she might be taking advantage of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one was so short - and late! I've just been really wiped out from work lately. I had a good rest yesterday though... watched Annihilation in theaters and ate some tacos. :)


	14. Summer 6: Hesitant

After their hike was finished, Diana tried to keep herself very busy for the rest of the day - and the next few days after that. Guilt slammed into her every time she saw Cullen wave at her from across the sanctuary and every time he sat down next to her at a meal. They still had occasional conversations, of course, she couldn’t dodge those, but she worked very hard to stay busy so they couldn’t go on their customary walks.

Using people was wrong. Manipulating them was wrong, too. Was it possible she had been unintentionally doing both to Cullen, who had been, quite frankly, the best friend she had had since the Inquisition ended? 

Her sensible head told her no, she hadn’t been. She genuinely enjoyed his company… and it seemed like he enjoyed hers, too. But the clenching in her stomach and the fear fluttering like lightning in her heart told her… maybe. The rational thoughts were swept away by the thunderstorm of anxiety. 

It was frustrating. 

She  _ knew  _ that she wasn’t using Cullen to soothe her bad feelings. She  _ knew  _ she wasn’t manipulating him. She  _ knew  _ that she genuinely enjoyed his company. But there was a disconnect between her brain and her very fearful, guilty-feeling heart. No matter how many times she tried to assure herself that she wasn’t using him, a tiny ‘ _ But what if you are?’  _ escaped from the furthest corners of her mind and sent her spiraling back down into feeling guilty. 

She spent her days feeling restless, her feet urging her to move. When she sat, her legs bounced with pent-up energy.  _ Go. Go. Run. Leave. _

It seemed her distress was noticeable. One night after a long walk in the hot sun (and then a bath afterward to clean off the day’s sweat and grime), Diana looked up to see Flora leaning against her doorway.

“Knock, knock,” the mage said, holding up a comb and some strips of cord. “I was wondering if I could braid your hair.”

“That’s a strange request,” Diana said, forcing a smile.  _ Go. Run. Leave.  _

Flora shrugged, pushing her long dark hair over her shoulders. “I need to practice and Sandrine won’t let me touch her hair. She complains my braids are too tight. May I?”

The former Inquisitor nodded, standing from her bed. Flora took the space that Diana had been occupying, while Diana pulled up a stool and sat between Flora’s knees. Soon the mage was dividing the sections of Diana’s hair with nimble, practiced hands. 

“I haven’t seen much of you lately. Spending time on your own?” Flora asked, tying off a portion of Diana’s wet, black curls. “We missed you at breakfast today. And lunch. And dinner.”

Diana frowned. “I know. I’ve been… busy.”

“Okay,” Flora said simply, her voice pleasant and soft as she worked on Diana’s hair.

Then it was quiet in Diana’s bedroom, with only the soft noises of their breath and the gentle breeze coming through her bedroom window. For a long time they were both silent, Flora focusing on the task of braiding Diana’s thick hair and Diana herself focusing on working up the courage to speak. 

“I have-” her voice cracked. Diana cleared her throat, then tried again. “I have a problem.”

“What is it?” Flora didn’t sound surprised, but Diana couldn’t see her face to learn if her expression matched her voice.

“I keep having these thoughts,” she began, trying to stay vague in her explanation. “I  _ know  _ they’re not true, but I can’t stop the thoughts. How… do I stop them?”

Flora was quiet for a while. “You want to know the truth?” Diana gave a small nod, feeling her hair being tugged by Flora as she did so. “Keep still. You don’t stop the thoughts.”

“Oh.”

“In my experience,” Flora continued, her voice casual as if they were merely talking about the weather. “The more you try to not think about something or not feel something, the more you actually feel or think it. The thoughts are going to happen until one day they don’t. And until that day, we can’t stop them, we can only change how how we react and how much power we give them.”

Well. Frankly, that wasn’t the answer she had been wanting. Diana wasn’t sure what she had expected Flora to say, but it hadn’t been that. She was wanting a quick fix, a simple instruction to stop her intrusive thoughts.

“Whenever that thought comes into your head, I want you to try and listen to it. Don’t fight it. And then I want you to respond to yourself in your head, even if that seems silly,” she added the last bit because apparently she had somehow noticed Diana had opened her mouth to protest. “Think, ‘I know this is not true. I know this thought is not rational and it's okay that I'm having it, but I know it isn’t true.’ and then try to accept it. And if that thought keeps coming, keep responding the same way.”

Diana stayed quiet. That seemed like something that wouldn’t work. But for her sake - and for her relationship with Cullen- she had to try.

Flora didn’t push for details about the intrusive thoughts. The dark-skinned mage just kept working, deftly pulling strand over strand of Diana’s hair tightly over her knuckles. When she was done, she pulled out two hand mirrors and angled them in a wayso  that Diana could evaluate her elaborate, five-strand braid.

“Thanks. It looks wonderful,” Diana said, genuinely pleased as Flora headed for the door.

“Anytime,” Flora assured her, then hesitated in the doorway for a moment. “Diana, I think Cullen might think you’re avoiding him. Specifically, him. I’m not asking you to do anything or say anything to him, just telling you for your own information.”

And then, without waiting for Diana to respond, Flora left. 

She stood there for a few seconds, watching the now-empty space where the mage had once stood. Of course Cullen thought that Diana was avoiding him. She  _ had  _ been avoiding him. Guilt sunk into her stomach and this time she knew it was a rational guilt, a guilt she had to do something about.

Diana didn’t know what she was going to say to Cullen. He would be satisfied with the truth - and be nonjudgmental - but it was hard to find the words. An hour ago her feet couldn’t stop moving and now she couldn’t make them move.

Eventually, she sat down to write a letter.

_ Dear Cullen, _

_ I’m sorry for my absence in the last few days. _

_ This seems so strange to write out, but I had somehow convinced myself that I was manipulating you and using you because I feel better when I’m around you. It’s been a very long time since I’ve been anywhere near happy with anyone and I thought I might be accidentally using you for that instead of appreciating you and wanting to be with you because of who you are as- _

She stopped, crumpled the paper up, and threw it into a small bin in the corner. It was too rambling. 

Diana tried again. When that letter didn’t work, she tried again. And again and again. Deep into the late night, she tried to write a letter that adequately explained how he made her feel and how she had questioned the authenticity of her feelings, but nothing seemed right.

A sigh of frustration escaped her lips and she looked out of her bedroom window. A light caught her eye. Across the property, she could see the soft flicker of candle light in a window. The source was the building that housed Cullen’s office and room. 

She sighed again before reluctantly getting to her feet and leaving her quarters, walking across the grounds slowly.

John was on guard duty, apparently; he very nearly ran into her as he rounded a corner. “What’re you doing up?” he asked her suspiciously, then followed her line of vision. His gaze settled on the light in Cullen’s quarters and then he smiled wickedly. “Oh, I see.”

“No, you don’t. And you didn’t. Didn’t see me,” Diana said, the words tumbling out of her mouth in a near-stammer. She cleared her throat. “Right?”

John just laughed, then continued walking. “Right,” he said, giving her a wave over his shoulder as he continued to follow the perimeter of the sanctuary. “Get going.”

She didn’t waste any time, then, and soon found herself in front of the elaborate, lion-patterned door of Cullen’s office. The window that looked into the office was dark. Figuring that he must be in his quarters, she continued to walk around the edge of the building until she came upon a less ornate looking entrance. A window near the door bloomed with light. 

Diana knocked.


	15. Summer 7: Finally

The door opened slowly and Cullen appeared, wearing a soft-looking nightshirt and fitted breeches. He had a bit of parchment in his hand and the light from his room leaked in a long strip across her face. “Diana?” he asked, surprised. “What’s wrong?”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Nothing. I just - I saw you were awake and, uhm,” she paused. “I needed to talk to you, if… if you’re not busy.”

“Oh,” he said, his eyes softening. He opened the door a bit wider, then motioned to the room inside. “Did you - do you - want to come in? Or, if you would prefer, we could speak in my office. Whatever you wish. The office would be… proper, I suppose, but-”

Her heart fluttered strangely. “No, no, this is fine,” she said, stepping past him and entering his quarters. His room was large; there was a bed and a small sitting area. Bits of his history were everywhere. His trademark fur was hanging on a post of his bed and his armor was on rack in one corner. It smelled like him, too, clean and warm and woodsy.

She sat on a long, plush bench in the sitting area and her hand nervously fidgeted with a tufted button. Cullen sat next to her, their knees almost touching as he angled his body to face her better.

In the gentle flickering candlelight, she studied him for a moment. His curls were a bit messy, as if he had been running a frustrated hand through his hair for the past hour. She had the sudden urge to touch them, to run her fingertips down the stubble on his jawline. Diana swallowed hard. 

“I wanted to - to apologize,” she stammered. Cullen looked confused, but didn’t say anything. He waited for her to continue, as patient as always. Diana took a deep breath. “I’ve been avoiding you and I think you know that. I was… I wanted to make sure that I… that I enjoyed spending time with you because I genuinely like your company. I was worried that it might be because you - you make me feel better. Not that one thing can’t coexist with the other, but I was worried that I was using you to, uhm, make myself feel better. You - you  _ do  _ make me feel better! But I, I’m just really - Maker, I’m rambling. I’m sorry.”

She gave a small, sheepish laugh, still fidgeting with the sofa. Cullen reached over, slowly, to take her hand from the sofa. He held it, gentle and warm, in his two large palms. Diana wasn’t sure if she was breathing.

Cullen said something she didn’t hear.

“Hmm?” she questioned, her eyes snapping to his face as she realized she had missed something.

He smiled slightly. “I asked what you found. About whether you genuinely enjoy my company or not.”

“Oh,” she said, her eyes drifting from his face to where her hand was clasped in his.

Before she could answer, he spoke again and his voice was strained. “I should make sure you understand something first,” he said, clearing his throat. His knee touched hers. A lightning bolt shot up her thigh. “I… I genuinely enjoy your company, Diana. I don’t watch over you because I feel obligated to do so. I don’t seek you out because you nearly sacrificed your life for Thedas. I do it because… because you’re in my thoughts, always, and I tell you things I don’t speak of to anyone else. Maker, Diana, I don’t know how you can’t see that you have this - this power over me.”

His voice started out steady, but was nearly shaking with emotion at the end. His hands trembled as he held hers. Cullen took a breath.

“I didn’t plan for this,” he continued, his voice quiet and steady again. “I didn’t know I’d find you in Holmfirth and I didn’t know you would… Diana, the restraint I struggle to have in your presence….”

“The restraint?” she echoed quietly, her heart beating loudly in her ears. 

Cullen shook his head, still gripping her hand like it was the only thing tethering him to the room. “I know you’re hurt and I know it’s partly because of things the Inquisition expected of you - things that… that  _ I,  _ as the Commander, expected of you. It’s too much for me to hope that you would… that you could… return the feelings that I have for you.”

Her breath caught in her throat. Diana stood, heart hammering.  _ Go. Go, leave. Run. _

The voice urged her to the door. She opened it, night breeze washing over her. She was thoroughly overwhelmed with thoughts. Cullen had feelings for her. 

Did she... have feelings for him? She knew she liked him very much. He understood her, protected her, helped her. Offered her nothing but support and care, friendship and honesty.

Silently, Diana closed the door to his quarters, still inside his room. She turned, looking back at Cullen. He was still sitting on the bench, but his head was in his hands. He looked destroyed. He had also apparently not noticed that when she closed the door, she had remained inside of his quarters.

Her feet moved on their own, floating her over to where he sat. She kneeled in front of him, then reached with a shaking hand to comb a golden curl back into place. “Cullen,” she managed, voice quiet and trembling. Her palm slid from his hair, shakily but tenderly gliding down his cheek.

He caught her hand, pressing her knuckles against his mouth desperately. “My lady,” he breathed quietly, his eyes finally lifting to meet hers. 

There was a fire in them, an intensity that made her breath catch and her heart skip a flaming beat. Wordlessly, he seemed to ask her for permission and wordlessly, she gave it.

Cullen moved slowly, straining to be deliberate and careful. His hands came to cup her face as she kneeled before him. He lowered his face to hers and pressed a shaky kiss to each cheek, his warm breath washing over her skin. For a moment his amber eyes flitted to her lips, but he seemed to think better of it and instead began to lift his head and pull away from her.

Diana moved, feeling bold. She pushed off of the floor slightly, so that she was rising as he was lifting his head. Her palm found its way to the back of his neck, gently tugging his face back down to hers.

He seemed to know what she wanted. Cullen’s arms came around her, one gripping around her shoulders and the other curving around her waist, pulling her up slightly from her position on the floor into a tight and close embrace.

Their mouths met in a hard kiss that felt like it had been waiting patiently, dormant for months.


	16. Summer 8: Goodnight

Time was slowing down and nothing existed outside of the room, only the feeling of his mouth on hers. One moment he was pulling the pair as close together as possible, his lips urgent and fiery and then the next he was soft, tentative, tender as he kissed her. She was very glad she was in his arms; she felt like she might have dramatically swooned otherwise.

Diana wanted to remember this as long as possible: the flicker of the candlelight, the feel of Cullen’s soft stubble on her skin, the warmth of his palm pressing flat into the small of her back as he pulled her close.

Within a few minutes, Cullen’s embrace loosened. The arm around her shoulders slowly pulled away and his hands returned to his side. “Well,” he breathed as she moved to sit next to him on the bench.

His cheeks were flushed and she imagined that her own matched. “Well,” Diana agreed with a small and nervous laugh, putting a hand to her hair. Cullen was staring down at his open palms, suddenly very interested in the lines on his hands.

“I’ve wanted to do that for longer than I should admit,” he confessed with a sheepish expression. “I imagined it would be at our - I mean, the - pond. Or maybe on a trip to Highever... or on top of a hill at sunset, not here, not at midnight, not-”

She shushed him. "You probably figured as much, but to answer your question - yes, I do genuinely enjoy your company," Diana said with another laugh, this one a little less nervous and a little more genuine.

He laughed again, too, then lifted his eyes from his palms to her face. He didn’t speak for a few seconds, only looked at her. “Maker’s breath, how can I be sure I’m not dreaming?” he asked, his voice quiet as his eyes roamed over her face.

Diana flushed again under his unabashed gaze. Her bold thoughts urged her to ask: _do you dream about me, Cullen?_ She beat them back and then they both sat there for a few seconds, neither speaking until she finally cleared her throat. “I don’t know what to do now,” she confessed, feeling extremely unsure of herself. “I’ve never…”

“You’ve never…?” Cullen asked, his eyebrows raised.

“No! I mean, yes,” she said quickly, rubbing her face with her palm as she tried to collect her thoughts. “Yes, I have done - ah, _this_ \- with… but never like _this._ Not... feeling like this.”

“How do you feel?”

She hesitated. How _did_ she feel? She didn’t regret kissing him, not at all. Diana decided she felt safe, comfortable, secure, and-

“Happy,” she said quietly, her gaze dropping from his face to her lap. The word was said in disbelief. “I feel happy. I-”

Much to her embarrassment, her voice cracked and she could feel herself tremble with a sob. It was as if all of the emotions she hadn’t felt for the past year were there again, suddenly and forcefully and it was too much, too much, too much, it was standing in a rough ocean and trying to not be knocked over by the freezing waves.

Cullen pulled her into his chest, tucking her head under his chin as a steady stream of reassuring, soft words left his mouth.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered in between sobs that wracked her whole body, her voice muffled because she had her face pressed into his shirt. It wasn’t that she was necessarily feeling negative emotions, but that she was genuinely feeling things she hadn’t experienced in months. It was overwhelming.

“Shh, it’s okay, it’s alright,” he said, his hand lifting to stroke her hair.

Diana cried for a few minutes before the tears stopped as suddenly as they had started. She slowly pulled away from Cullen, hiccuping slightly. “I’m sorry, I had just - for so long, I felt nothing at all… I had almost for-forgotten what it felt like, what _this_ felt like, what feeling good feels like-”

“It’s really-”

“I’m sorry,” she said again, her eyes lowering to his shirt. A big damp splotch was now in the middle of his chest. “I got your shirt wet.”

Cullen looked down and laughed gently. “It’s just a shirt, Diana,” he assured her.

She hiccupped. Her thoughts were all over the place. “You called me ‘my lady.’”

“I - yes,” Cullen said, looking suddenly nervous. His hands picked at a loose thread on his pants. “Do you… want to be? Not that you would be _my_ lady; you are your own lady, of course. Your own woman, rather. I’m… Maker, this still feels so unreal.” He sighed in frustration.

“I… I like it, though,” Diana said, slowly moving to lift his hand from where it was fiddling with the thread. She held it in her own, appreciating the warmth and weight. “This feels… easy. And good.”

“I think so, too,” he said softly. They smiled at each other for a moment. Cullen boldly leaned forward, pressing a brief but sweet kiss on her mouth.

* * *

“I have to go,” Diana said for what felt like the thousandth time. She had been trying to leave his quarters for fifteen minutes but each time they said goodbye to each other they only grinned like fools before kissing a little more and then saying goodbye _again_ and starting the whole cycle over _again_. “Really this time, Cullen. It’ll be dawn in a few hours.”

He nodded slowly, eyes resting on her dark circles. “Goodnight, then, my lady,” he said with a smile, pressing a lingering kiss to her knuckles. “Unless you want an escort?”

“No, because then we’ll just end up saying goodnight a hundred times again,” she said with a small laugh, opening the door to his quarters. A small, low bark was heard as she stepped out, very nearly tripping over a large mabari. “Oh!”

“You’ve been out here the whole time, haven’t you?” Cullen asked Roger, his eyebrows raised as the dog entered Cullen’s quarters, ignoring them both. He settled onto Cullen’s large bed with an irritated-sounding _humph,_ his back toward them.

“Goodnight,” Diana said, smiling softly as she turned to leave. Cullen shut the door behind her and she was left in near-darkness as she made her way across the grounds.

“Took longer than I thought. I’m impressed!”

She almost screamed in surprise. John was sitting on a stool, leaning back against the side of the barracks. His teeth glinted in the low light. “Maker’s breath, John!”

“So, how’d everything go?” he asked with a low whistle. “All parts work correctly?”

Her ears were burning as she stomped past him, pointedly ignoring him. His cackles echoed loudly and she could hear his laughing even as she pushed open the door to the guest quarters.


	17. Summer 9: Fight

To her annoyance, Diana woke up only a few hours later. Apparently her body was too used to being up and moving just before sunrise; she tried to go back to sleep but couldn’t make her thoughts stop racing or her legs from moving. 

Begrudgingly, she made several trips back and forth from the sanctuary’s well, heating buckets of water in the bathing room and then taking a long bath. 

Afterward, she fully intended to get dressed and then start the day, but a momentary thought of ‘I’ll just sit down for a moment’ turned into her falling asleep on her bed for several hours. When she woke up for the second time that day she touched her hair; normally sleeping on wet curls meant she would wake up with a bird’s nest, but thanks to Flora’s neat braid her hair still felt presentable.

Diana left her room and then moved to pull the door shut behind her. Something stopped her; there was a bundle of wildflowers hanging from the knob.

There were sweet white daisies, pastel blue forget-me-nots, purple irises, and a few flowers she recognized but didn't know the name of. They were all flowers that she and Cullen had seen on their long walks through the coastal hills together. Affection surged within her as she lifted the bouquet from the knob.

She didn’t have a vase in her room, so she just placed them on her dresser carefully before leaving her quarters again.

Apparently it was around lunch time; nobody was weeding or watering or training outside, so she took the general absence of residents to mean that everyone was in the dining hall.

John called to her as she walked in. “You slept in late. Thought you were gonna miss lunch, too,” he said. Diana just shrugged as she kept walking, going to retrieve a bowl of a tomato-based soup and a big chunk of bread. 

As usual, the wiry man was sitting at a table with Sandrine, Flora, and several other residents. Cullen was absent; Diana took a seat next to Flora and took a large bite out of the soft bread. 

“Why are you so tired? Participating in... nighttime activities?” John asked gleefully. Diana gave him a sharp look, not answering.

He nudged her with his elbow.

“Aww, come on. I-”

Sandrine threw a small piece of her bread at John. It bounced off of his large nose and landed in his almost-empty bowl of soup. “Fuck off, John. It’s none of your business,” she said, her tone serious but not overly malicious. “Just because no one finds  _ you  _ attractive doesn’t mean we  _ all  _ have to suffer and die alone.”

John balked at her. “What? Plenty of people find me attractive!”

Flora laughed, using a spoon to scrape up the last bit of her soup. “Your own mother doesn’t count.”

John spent the rest of his lunch time trying to make a list of people who had found him attractive, rattling off stories that would make a Revered Mother blush. Eventually he stood and stretched, then nodded at Diana. “You up for some sparring today? Or are you too tired?”

“If you mention my sleeping schedule one more-” she began, feeling irritated.

He smiled, holding up his hands defensively as they brought their empty dishes to the kitchen and gave  them to Leo. “Hey, alright. I’m sorry. Nothing interesting ever goes on here, so when something happens I have to hook my little claws into it.”

Diana scowled all the way to the sparring ring, in slight disbelief that somehow  _ everyone  _ seemed to  _ instantly  _ know that  _ something  _ had happened between her and Cullen last night. She had thought gossip traveled fast in Holmfirth, but here it seemed to teleport. 

“Maker, it’s hot out here,” John said with a low whistle as they put on a light layer of padding in preparation for their sparring. They used dulled swords, but the padding helped prevent the more intense bruising that could result. 

She nodded absently in agreement. Summer was at its culmination and she knew autumn would be there soon, but it seemed like the heat was swelling in one last attempt before it faded into cooler weather. The midday sun beat down on their faces as they began to circle each other in the training ring.

Neither one used a shield. Diana didn’t because she didn’t have a left hand to hold the shield; John didn’t because he wanted to keep things fair. She didn’t argue about it most days. Sometimes she felt tempted to tell him she had fought through all kinds of monsters and demons and people with a broken shield or no shield at all and she could therefore handle him having an advantage over her, but she felt like that would be some kind of twisted bragging. 

“It’s hot,” she breathed, twenty minutes into their training. They had both shed the protective padding within the first ten minutes; it was a breezeless day so their sweat wasn’t whisked away by a cooling wind. It lingered, sticking heavily to their now-exposed tunics.

“It happens,” John grunted, swinging his sword toward her. She blocked it, only barely. “You’re not concentrating.”

“It’s too hot to concentrate,” Diana muttered, but narrowed her eyes in an attempt to better focus on him. They exchanged blows a few times, but neither one landed a real hit. It was too warm and they were both weighed down by the hot, humid air. 

“Okay, maybe it is a tiny bit warm,” John said, panting. He held up a hand to signal to her that she should pause and then he jerked his tunic off of his head in a single motion, throwing it to the side of the ring. 

“Not ‘ _ maybe.’  _ It  _ is  _ hot, you stubborn ass,” she said with a scowl. Diana very rarely lost her temper, but most of the time when she did it was in John’s presence.

They fought for a while longer, before taking a break. John hung his arms over the tall fence that sectioned off the training ring from the rest of the sanctuary. “I’m baking out here,” he said in between long gulps from a waterskin. He passed it to Diana and she also took a few drinks. “You want to keep going?”

She blew some loose hair out of her face. “Yes,” she said. It was hot, but her muscles weren’t burning with effort yet. Diana knew she would regret it if she stopped now. 

John nodded. She couldn’t tell if he was disappointed or not. They rested against the fence for a while longer before he reluctantly picked up his sword and headed back into the center of the ring. 

Diana hung the waterskin back on its hook on the fence, then grabbed the hem of her tunic. She tugged it off, leaving her in the ivory, sleeveless shirt that she wore between her smallclothes and her tunic. It was thrown over a fence post before she grabbed her sword and jogged over to join John.

It was easier to concentrate without the soaked, sweaty fabric weighing her down. She wondered how she had ever fought while wearing heavy armor when she was now so heavily discouraged just by a sweaty, heavy shirt. Maybe it was because in the armor she was fighting for her life - and Thedas - and now she was only practicing with a friend. 

“There we go, there’s some enthusiasm,” he said, noticing her increase in speed and the strength of her sword swings. John’s words were almost lost on her. The world around her was fading away as she concentrated. This was something she knew how to do. It was familiar and her body seemed to recognize that and it moved automatically. This was a step and a block and a dodge and slowly their fight became more intense as she grew more confident. So much of her life was shaped by fighting. 

A small crowd of residents had milled over to the edge of the sparring ring, watching the duo fight with fascination. As they swung and blocked and swung and blocked, she recognized Sandrine’s flame of red hair. “Fans of yours?” Diana teased, motioning toward his blank chest. 

“Nobody’s here to see  _ me _ ,” John said with a pointed nod at her shirt, grinning wickedly. Diana scowled, irritated again, and swung her sword at him, hard. His arm shook as he only barely managed to block the sudden attack.

“Do you ever stop talking?” she questioned, dodging a return swipe of his sword.

“Only when I’m makin’ love,” he cooed.

She mimed vomiting, which made him laugh as their swords clashed. They struggled for a minute before breaking apart.

“I’m getting bored,” John warned as they circled each other, one at each end of the fenced-in ring.

“Bored? Or tired?” she taunted. John seemed to be slowing down a little. Even from across the ring, she could see the sheen of sweat on his brow and the heave of his chest as he panted.

He didn’t answer. For a moment, he became distracted by something in the distance and Diana sensed an opening. She sprinted toward him, sword still in her hand, and he only just managed to step aside. 

Diana lifted her foot and it landed a solid step on a fence post, then pivoted and pushed off toward John. He hadn’t been expecting her to recover so quickly from his dodge, nor had he been expecting her to take her momentum turn it into another attack so quickly. 

Things seemed to happen in slow motion. Diana saw his expression change into surprise, saw the edge of her sword moving in a sweeping line toward his unprotected ribcage. At the last second she pulled back, realizing that without the protective padding she could very well crack or break his ribs. 

Her sword came to a stop a few inches from his side. John panted, making eye contact with her, and then dropped his weapon. “Yield,” he croaked. “I yield. You win.”

There was silence, then the noise of Sandrine whooping loudly and Flora clapping enthusiastically. “ _ Maker’s holy fucking breath! _ I guess that’s why you’re the Inquisitor,” Sandrine said with a wide grin, offering Diana the waterskin. 

She smiled sheepishly, taking a long drink. The water was cool and sweet in her mouth. 

Maybe too sweet?

Diana frowned, looking at Sandrine. “What is-”

Her throat began to swell shut before she could finish the sentence. Diana choked, watching as Sandrine’s eyes widened in horror. Frightened gasps somehow ripped from Diana’s body, even though it felt like she wasn’t taking in any air. 

Diana sank to her knees, then collapsed into darkness as Flora reached for her fallen form.


	18. Summer 10: Aftermath

Eventually, Diana swam into consciousness again. She was lying on something soft; her bed, probably. She tried to open her eyes, but her eyelids were too heavy and so she only breathed quietly and listened. Quiet voices slowly came into focus.

“Whoever did this wasn’t trying very hard to kill her,” Sandrine’s voice was soft in the darkness. She sounded angry, but worried. “Flora was  _ right there.  _ Who tries to poison someone when there’s a healer right next to them?”

Her voice was getting louder. Someone shushed Sandrine. “Even if I hadn’t been there,” Flora said, her tone even. “I doubt Diana would have died. They didn’t use enough to kill her. Maybe a child would have died, but not an adult.”

There was silence, then a quiet male voice. Cullen. “Do you think they meant it as a warning?”

“Hard to say,” Flora said after a moment. “Maybe they just didn’t know what they were doing.”

Something clinked in the darkness. “Why do you have this?”

“You’re not trying to blame Flora for this, are-” Sandrine’s voice was there again, angrier now.

“Hush, Sandrine,” Flora said. The redhead didn’t speak again. “It can be used when someone is bleeding heavily. A few drops in the right location, applied topically, will help to stem bleeding. But when ingested, it causes the throat to constrict.”

“Is it common knowledge?” Cullen asked. “I’ve never heard of this.”

“It’s not. But I label all of my ingredients and include warnings. I do it so that in case of my absence, there’s little chance of someone misusing anything. If someone was seeking a poison, they wouldn't find one. I have no use for them. This is probably the deadliest thing in my collection and as you can see, death isn’t guaranteed.”

Cullen didn’t speak again for a while. Diana could imagine how he looked in her mind’s eye: his forehead was probably doing that concerned creasing. His mouth would be pressed into a hard line and-

“Diana, are you awake?” It was Flora. The floor creaked and someone sat on the bed next to her.

Diana opened her eyes. She was propped up on pillows in her own bed, in her own room. In soft candlelight, she could make out Flora’s form. Behind her was Sandrine, who was chewing her fingernail nervously and next to the redhead was Cullen. He  _ did _ have that concerned crease on his forehead, but he also looked relieved as her Diana’s eyes found his.

“How are you feeling?” Flora asked quietly, offering Diana a sip of water.

She drank, enjoying the soothing feeling down her throat. “I feel okay,” Diana said, wincing as she spoke. Her throat didn’t hurt, but her voice sounded very raspy.

Flora extended a hand, gently touching Diana’s throat. “No pain?”

“No. I feel fine. What happened?”

“Someone poisoned you. It was in the water I gave you. I’m sorry, Diana, I didn’t know…” Sandrine said, wringing her hands in distress. “I didn’t know, I promise.”

“I believe you. Why do I sound like this? Is it going to last long?” Diana asked, clearing her throat halfway through the sentence in an attempt to make her voice sound better. It didn’t help. “Who did this?”

“We don’t know yet,” Cullen said quietly. His voice was calm and calculated, even though she could see him clenching his fists. A muscle in his jaw twitched. “I’ve written to Leliana. Given her names of everyone who is here. If anyone has a reason to be angry with you, we’ll find out soon enough. In the meantime, I’ll be conducting an investigation of my own. And you, of course, will be guarded around the clock.”

“That’s unnecessary, Cullen, I-”

“You almost died, Diana! It’s not unnecessary!” Cullen said suddenly, his raised voice shaking slightly. He paused, took in a breath, and continued. “And I… I am the overseer here. If you wish to remain here, you’ll consent to the guard.”

Diana flinched as he yelled. She felt like she had been slapped; she looked to Flora and Sandrine but they weren’t meeting her eyes. “Okay,” Diana said in a small voice. “Fine.”

There was an awkward silence. Cullen looked at Flora and Sandrine. The redhead cleared her throat, gave a small wave to Diana, and then slipped out of the doorway.

“We’ll leave you to rest,” Flora said quietly, looking at Cullen. The dark-skinned woman stood, hesitating in the doorway. “John is outside your door and we have two guards patrolling the grounds. If you need anything…”

“I’ll make some noise,” Diana said with a nod, trying to force a small smile. It didn’t happen.

Flora nodded, gave Cullen a pointed look, then left. She shut the door to Diana’s room, leaving Cullen within.

There was silence for several seconds. Diana, wounded by how he had shouted at her, did not speak. She didn’t look at him, but could see him out of the corner of her eye. He stood, looking into the candlelight, for what felt like a very long time.

She squirmed in her bed, feeling like a scolded child. “I’m-” she began to speak, but he did, too.

“I’m sorry.”

Diana stared at him. His expression was unreadable. He was still gazing at the candle in her window, avoiding looking at her altogether.

“ _ You almost died today _ because I failed to protect you. A lapse in judgment, a lapse in vigilance, almost took you away. I'm sorry.” His voice was shaking. He gripped the edge of her dresser as he stood, his knuckles turning white.

“That’s not your fault, Cullen,” Diana said eventually. He winced at the rasp in her voice.

“It’s my duty to protect everyone who comes here, to offer them a safe place,” Cullen whispered. “And you - I thought you were  _ dead _ . I heard screaming and I ran over and saw someone on the ground and - and it was you. Your face was  _ purple- _ ”

He broke off, shaking his head. Diana said nothing, only sat up further in her bed and then reached over slowly, placing her palm over his hand as it clenched upon the dresser. “Cullen.”

He looked at her, finally, and then his face broke. Cullen’s expression crumpled into pure agony and she tugged on his hand, pulling him into her bed as he buried his face in her shoulder and muttered fervent apologies into her skin. Diana pressed her lips to his curls, stroking his hair. “It’s okay. Shh. It’s okay.”

Several minutes later he pulled away, his final tears clinging to his eyelashes and his gaze fixed on her shoulder. “Your shirt-” he began, brushing his fingers over a damp spot left by his sobs.

She smiled. “It’s just a shirt, Cullen.”

His eyes went soft and he pulled her in for a gentle kiss. 


	19. Summer 11: Choke

Under Cullen’s orders, Diana was shadowed by a guard at all times. The only exception was when she was bathing or sleeping; even during those times, there was a guard immediately outside of her door.

She quickly grew tired of it. 

Cullen had assured her the guard would be dropped when they uncovered who was responsible for the poisoning, but neither he or Leliana were making any progress in the investigation. Every resident of the sanctuary had their past dug up but nothing suspicious came to light. Dead end after dead end frustrated Cullen.

The investigation was cutting into their time together. Diana and Cullen hadn’t really had a chance to speak about their relationship - or spend any semi-romantic time together - since the poisoning. Cullen’s days were consumed with research and review and an obsessive need to find the would-be murderer.

“It wasn’t an accident. You can’t accidentally poison someone,” Cullen said one night as they sat in his office. John, who had been on escort duty, had taken a break to go find a snack in the kitchen. “Someone is responsible.”

“Maybe they weren’t trying to poison me. Maybe John was the target. He was drinking out of the same waterskin,” Diana said, but with a long sigh. They had been over every theory a thousand times. It felt like they were rehashing old conversations. She longed to talk about something other than the attempted poisoning.

“I…” Cullen rifled through some papers on his desk, his eyes scanning them quickly. “I don’t know, Diana. I just… there’s nothing here. If anyone here has any history with the Inquisition or with you, they’ve hid it very well from record.”

She only shrugged. Cullen had been agitated for what felt like weeks (but was really days), determined to find the person behind the attack. He had looked in every single cranny in everyone’s lives and found nothing. He had interrogated everyone multiple times and found nothing. Leliana’s agents - and Nightingale herself - hadn’t found a trace of anything.

“What do I do from here?” his voice was quiet, frustrated. Cullen did not look at her, only kept staring down at the papers before him. 

Diana watched him for a moment. She felt bad for him. It was clear he wasn’t sleeping as much as he needed to. At the same time, Diana herself just wanted things to return to the way they had been before; she had lost enough time being caught up in murder and assault; she didn’t want to lose this peaceful feeling - or Cullen - to the very things she had tried to leave behind with the Inquisition. “You take a break,” she said. “We go on a walk.”

“It’s dangerous to leave the grounds,” he said automatically, eyes flickering to hers for a second. He went back to the papers, lingering over a few pages. “I feel like there’s something here. But I don’t know what it is. I’m so close, Diana, I promise. I promise you I’ll-”

“Cullen,” she said, beginning to frown. Frustration came through in her voice. “This… this doesn’t matter to me. I just want this to be over and for things to go back to the way they were.”

“Someone tried to kill you,” he said in disbelief. “I can’t just  _ ignore _ -”

“Someone _ very bad at killing people _ tried to kill me and they haven’t tried since. It’s been a week and a half and there’s no follow up, no more attempts. No leads. Maybe it was just a prank gone bad. We don’t know and we’re not-”

“I’m only trying to keep you safe,” he said, looking wounded.

“I _am_ safe. And believe it or not, I have managed to keep myself alive my entire life,” Diana said. She was tired of being confined to the sanctuary’s grounds, tired of not being left alone, tired of only talking about plans and actions in Cullen’s presence. She wished to return to the night before the poisoning, when they had first kissed. Her voice lost the sharpness when she spoke again. “I miss you, Cullen.”

He frowned, standing and coming around to the other side of his desk. He crouched in front of her, lifting her hand to his lips. Cullen’s expression was apologetic. “I’m sorry. I’ve missed you, too,” he said, his voice soft and sweet but with a huskier undertone. 

She smiled, biting her lip slightly. An exciting, warm feeling rested in her belly. 

Encouraged by her reaction, he pushed off of the ground, resting a palm on each of her chair’s arms. Cullen leaned in close to her, supporting his weight with his arms. She locked eyes with him. 

They kissed.

It wasn’t soft and tentative like their first kiss, nor sweet like the ones since. It was deep and needy and passionate. Diana’s arm lifted to wrap around him in an attempt to pull him closer - their knees crashed into each other - and her hand snaked up under his shirt and passed over the muscles of his back, skin on warm skin.

He made a delicious noise into her mouth, breathing erratically. His mouth left hers, traveling down her throat to the collar of her shirt. 

The door to his office opened. Cullen pulled away from her, looking absolutely murderous as he looked over to see who had entered the room.

His rage fell upon Leo. The teenager looked infinitely embarrassed.

“What?” Cullen demanded. Diana awkwardly rubbed the back of her neck, looking away.

“I - I-” Leo stammered. He pointed in the direction of the dining hall. “I was - John and I were in the dining hall. We heard a noise outside of the fence. He went to look and hasn’t come back yet.”

Immediately Cullen’s expression shifted into commander-like concern and focus. “How long ago was this?”

“Half an hour, maybe,” the teenager estimated, shifting where he stood.

“Let’s go,” Diana said, standing from her chair. Her heart hammered in her chest.

Cullen hesitated, then shook his head. “No. You’re staying here.”

“John might be-”

“I know. I’ll assemble a party and we’ll find John. You-” he pointed to Leo. “Stay here with her. I’ll send Sandrine and Flora to you immediately.”

Diana must have looked like she was going to protest, because Cullen stopped again on his way out the door.

“I’m sorry. I know you’re capable of protecting yourself. But I will focus better if I know you’re here, if you’re safe,” he said softly. His hand was on her waist and he pulled her in to place a gentle kiss on her forehead. “The next time you’re almost killed, you can come along to  hunt them down. I promise.”

She laughed, then gave him a gentle push. “Get out of here, then.”

Cullen nodded and was fastening his sword to his belt as he left his office, a fierce and steely look on his face. Leo shut the door behind Cullen, still looking very awkward.

“You can sit down if you want,” Diana suggested, raising an eyebrow. 

Leo shrugged, then took a step toward her. “I don’t have much time.”

The hair on the back of her neck prickled. “Time?” she questioned lightly, uneasy with the suddenly blank look that Leo had on his face. He glanced out of the window, into the black night.

“Before Sandrine and Flora arrive,” he said.

Several things seemed to happen at once. Leo lunged toward her, pushing her flat onto her back. The air in her lungs was knocked out as she hit the floor of the office, hard. Diana opened her mouth to scream, but Leo’s thin hands were already steel traps around her throat.

Whatever air hadn’t been knocked from her upon impact escaped with a whining, strangling noise as he choked her. Diana tried to roll him off of her, struggling, but he only tipped slightly from side to side as she fought to remove his body from on top of hers. In the struggle, the corner of Leo’s temple bashed into the sharp edge of a nearby end table but he didn’t let go.

The world was turning foggy and dark.

Blood leaked from his injured temple. It dripped down onto Diana’s face as she looked up at him and it was warm as it splashed onto her throat and face. 

She gasped one last time, legs kicking wildly as she struggled underneath him. He was smaller than she was, but the element of surprise along with her vulnerable position on the floor made fighting difficult. Her hand scrabbled toward his eyes, trying to scratch anything her fingers could reach. Leo winced and looked away, trying to shield his face from her reach.

Eventually, her body went limp as the world darkened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, remember back in chapter 11 when Flora mentioned that Roger didn't like Leo? And the mabari wouldn't stop growling at him until they left the building?
> 
> Yeah, there was a reason for that and the reason wasn't that Leo likes cats. >:)


	20. Summer 12: Drowning

She was on a ship.

Diana didn’t open her eyes as she slowly became conscious once again, but she could feel the world dipping and rising around her in a very rhythmic-

A wagon wheel creaked.

Okay, she  _ wasn’t _ on a ship. 

Diana cracked one eye open. The sky was dark above her. Her eye slid shut and she stayed still for a moment, trying to assess her condition. Her throat hurt; she imagined it was at least bruised. Besides that, everything else seemed to be fine.

She opened her eyes again, just a slit. She was in the back of a small cart that was being pulled by someone who was apparently finding it very difficult to pull her over the rocky terrain. He-

No, not he.

It wasn’t some random assassin, wasn’t some bandit or thief - it was  _ Leo.  _

Leo, who had served her meals every morning. Leo, who fed scraps of food to his cat. Leo, who had played the part of innocent chef so well that no one had even glanced his way when she had been poisoned. 

Diana was filled with anger. 

She tried to move slightly, but her body was fastened to the sides of the cart with lengths of rope. Her movement was somehow noticed by Leo, who glanced over his shoulder at her. 

“I thought you were dead,” he confessed, grunting with the effort as he pulled her along.

“Because you tried to kill me,” she said. Or, at least, that’s what she tried to say. Her bruised throat ached and it came out as a hoarse, barely-audible whisper that made Leo laugh. “Who are-”

“Leo. I didn’t lie.”

She croaked out a second word. “Why?”

He stopped pulling the cart and came around to her, tying a strip of cloth around her mouth. She tried to bite him as he did so; he slapped her in retaliation once the gag was securely in her mouth.

“You don’t need to know why, only that you deserve it,” he said simply. A dog howled in the distance and Leo looked suddenly nervous. For a moment, Diana could see a frightened child in his expression before he turned away, pulling the cart with a frantic determination.

She kept her eyes open as he pulled her along, trying to figure out where they were. Somewhere still near Highever; he didn’t have the strength to have pulled her very far in such a short amount of time. Diana was certain not very much time had passed; it was very likely still the same evening. Soon the dog - probably Roger - would catch up with them.

She wondered how he had gotten her out of the sanctuary without anyone seeing. Diana frowned, trying to remember. Leo had come into Cullen’s office, interrupting, saying that-

“Thohn!” she exclaimed, the gag muffling her words. Her heart raced. John had been heading to the kitchen, had certainly encountered Leo, and had never returned to Cullen’s office. Was he…?

“Shut up,” Leo hissed at her.

Diana frowned, trying to sit up in the cart. She couldn’t see much, but could hear the gentle lapping of waves. A lake? Leo grunted, turning the cart so that he was now pushing it forward like a wheelbarrow. The noise of the wheels changed from wood crunching over rocky terrain to wood thunking on smooth planks.

Their location suddenly dawned on her. A pier. He was going to shove the entire cart into a lake, with her still strapped to it.

She began to struggle even more. “Mmmmfph,” she said, trying to pull her wrist from the rope that bound her to the cart. 

It burned as she twisted, but it did not come loose. 

“Plthhh,” she begged through the gag. 

Leo didn’t answer. His face was sweaty with effort. The wheel of the cart had dipped into a hole in the pier and the teenager was trying to push the cart out of the hole so that he could continue along. 

The dog howled again, sounding louder now. Leo glanced over his shoulder, looking panicked. He leaned forward to try and grab the spoke of the wagon wheel to lift it out of the hole. His head dipped just close enough-

Diana brought her head forward, hard, against his. There was a loud crack as she headbutted him. She saw stars but apparently the damage to Leo had been worse; a single scream of pain escaped from him as he clutched his now-broken, bloody mess of a nose.

“You bitch!” he said, striking her hard across the face again. 

With determined grunts of effort, he rolled the cart out of the hole and over the edge of the pier. 

Diana cried out as the cart fell toward the water. It stayed upright as it splashed into the lake, which meant she was left looking up at Leo as cold water bubbled upward and soaked into her back. Apparently he had weighed the wooden cart down somehow; it bobbed once or twice over a few frightening seconds before beginning to sink. 

She tried to scream through the gag. Tears streamed from her eyes as the water crept up over her throat and Diana took one last, big gulp of air before the cart sank beneath the water, pulling Diana down into the depths with it.

Even though she tried to struggle against the ropes, she could not get free. They were too tight. 

So this was how she died. She lived through Corypheus and a near-apocalypse and she survived the Mark and assassins and now she was going to drown somewhere in the middle of nowhere, killed by a fucking teenager-

Something fell into the murky water next to her. Sandy hair fluttered in the water near Diana’s face. Leo. Was he alive? Was he having second thoughts, was he saving her?

No. Dark liquid bloomed from his throat. His eyes, still open, stared unseeing at her.

Then there were more splashes around her - more bodies. But these weren’t dead like Leo; they were swimming toward her, desperate. Flora. Sandrine. Cullen.

Each had a knife in their hand and they began to saw at her restraints.

Her lungs were on fire. Diana’s body reflexively tried to take in a breath, but only got lake water. She choked and thrashed under the water, the edges of her vision going black. But then, suddenly her hand was free, and her legs; her friends grabbed fistfuls of her clothing and dragged Diana to the surface as quickly as possible.

She coughed and choked as her face broke through the water, water pouring out of her lungs as she ripped the gag from her mouth. The small group of people stumbled into the shallows, pulling Diana toward the beach that ran along the lake. She collapsed onto her hands and knees, vomiting lake water. 

“Thank the fucking Maker,” John was there, wading through the water to meet the small group. His hair was matted with blood; Diana could see a crusty, painful-looking wound on his head. 

She wanted to ask him if Leo had done it, but she couldn’t stop heaving. 

Flora placed a glowing hand on Diana’s chest that soothed the burning pain in her lungs, Cullen watching intently over her shoulder. Sandrine was wading over to meet them, pulling something along with her - Leo’s body.

John frowned down at the still, lifeless form of the teenager. He let out a low whistle. “Damn shame. That son of a bitch made good potatoes.”

Cullen gave John a look. 

“I mean,  _ obviously _ , the fucker tried to kill Diana and he gave me a nasty wound and he should rot forever in some miserable place, but…”

Diana laughed and coughed and laughed again until she was in hysterics, mirthfully howling and painfully sobbing and crying and dry heaving in the wet sand. 


	21. Summer 13: Recovery

Eventually, Diana quieted as she felt herself go numb. She felt like she wasn’t even on the beach anymore; she didn’t feel pain or the water from the lake on her clothes or... anything. She could barely hear her friends as they spoke in soft voices. She wasn’t Diana. She wasn’t Diana. She wasn’t Diana.

Flora knelt next to her in the sand and started to inspect the many wounds and bruises on Diana’s body, frowning slightly at Diana’s lack of expression or vocalization. Occasionally the mage’s hand would flare blue as it passed over an injury.

“I’ve done what I can do here,” Flora said quietly, glancing up at Cullen. The former commander’s mouth was pressed into a thin line and his eyes were worried as he supervised Flora’s care and took note of Diana’s silence. “We need to get back to the sanctuary. I have a potion that will help the internal damage to her throat and lungs.”

Sandrine cleared her throat, jerking a thumb in the direction of Leo’s still body. “We can’t leave…” she trailed off awkwardly.

“Sure, we can,” John said, scowling as he watched Roger sniff the motionless corpse. “Let the wild wolves eat him! The same way he was going to let the fishes eat Diana.”

Cullen gave John a sharp look.

Sandrine spoke again. “I’ll stay and watch him,” she said, wringing water from the edge of her shirt. “You all head back to the sanctuary and send someone with a sheet and a cot to help me carry him.”

Cullen nodded in tense agreement.

“Be safe, please,” Flora said quietly to the redhead, going to embrace her briefly but tightly.

“Always,” Sandrine said, pressing a kiss to her wife’s temple.

“Roger, stay with Sandrine,” Cullen said to the mabari. Roger gave a single bark, then thunked his hindquarters into the sand next to Sandrine.

“I can carry her,” John said, motioning to Diana. He took a step closer to the former Inquisitor, but Cullen shook his head.

“I will,” he said firmly, hooking his arms around Diana’s knees and shoulders. He lifted her in a single motion; she said nothing, but passed her arm around his neck.

The small group formed a solemn line, with John leading, Cullen carrying Diana behind him, and Flora pulling up the rear.

Eventually, Diana spoke. Her head was leaning against Cullen’s chest. “I’m tired,” she managed to say, but winced. Her throat hurt from being choked, it hurt from dry heaving, and it hurt from her hysterics, too.

“We’re going home,” Cullen assured her in a quiet whisper. He pressed his lips to the top of her head, softly, as if he was afraid he might hurt her.

Diana nodded very slightly, then closed her eyes. She fell in and out of sleep as they walked to the sanctuary. She woke up briefly as they entered the gate and she heard Cullen instructing Finbar, who was on guard duty, to help with the retrieval of Leo’s body.

Flora mentioned something about stopping to retrieve some of her ingredients from her quarters and so John, Cullen, and Diana continued alone. Cullen said nothing as he walked past Diana’s guest quarters and John only spoke as he opened the door to Cullen’s room, motioning for Cullen to enter without him.

“I’ve opened my head wound again,” he muttered, pressing a palm to his hair. It came back slightly red. “I’m gonna go grab a rag and change my clothes. Let me know if you need anything.”

Cullen nodded absently toward John, focusing on laying Diana down on the plush bench in the sitting area. She lifted her eyes to look at him. His expression was a thousand different things: worried, relieved, sad, ashamed.

He didn’t look at her, only moved around the room completing small tasks. Cullen pulled down the blankets on one side of his bed, set a fire going in the fireplace, and then went to a chest of drawers and pulled out two sets of breeches and nightshirts.

Flora entered the room just as he was setting one set of clothing next to Diana.

“Here,” Flora said, pushing a large flask of something into Cullen’s hand. “Heat this over the fire, would you? It works better if it’s warm. And then leave - I need to take her shirt off.”

Cullen nodded, obeying his orders silently. Flora was in her element; Diana watched, fascinated, as the mage quickly unpacked a few different herbs and removed lids from jars. The flask, now suspended over the fire, bubbled and sizzled quietly.

Once they were left alone in the room, Flora gently tugged Diana’s damp tunic over her head, followed by her undershirt, smallclothes, pants, and boots. She worked quickly, passing a hand over Diana’s naked torso. Occasionally her forehead would crease and she would mutter something to herself.

Once she was satisfied with her work on Diana’s lungs, Flora helped the former Inquisitor get dressed in the clothes Cullen had set aside. They were too large for her, but they were clean and warm.

“Tilt your head back,” Flora ordered, fingers rising to gently probe at Diana’s bruised neck. Her fingertips glowed, soothing the aching in her throat. “There won’t be any lasting damage, but your throat will be sore and bruised for a few days. You can talk, but don’t overexert yourself.”

Diana nodded as Flora went to the fire, retrieving the potion. She tested the warmth of the liquid on the back of her hand and, apparently satisfied, passed it to Diana.

“What is this?” Diana asked, voice raspy, but obediently tipped the contents into her mouth. It was a little thicker than she had expected, but its taste was bearable.

“It will help your throat. And your lungs. Sometimes people who have almost drowned get out of the water and die hours later. This will stop that from happening,” she explained, taking the empty flask from Diana’s hands. Flora then began rubbing a yellow paste on the bruises on Diana’s face.

The mage’s expression was strange. “What?” Diana questioned quietly.

“He hit you. Multiple times, it looks like. He was cruel and spiteful. I’m sorry,” Flora said. Her normally serene face looked like it was close to shaking with rage.

“I did try to bite him,” Diana explained, her eyes sliding closed as Flora massaged the salve into her skin. She lifted a hand to her forehead, where a knot was forming. “And I - I headbutted him before he - before he pushed-”

She squeezed her eyes shut tighter, trying to force the image of Leo standing over her as she sunk into the water out of her head. Her heart fluttered nervously in her chest and she could feel the back of her neck becoming clammy.

“Shh,” Flora said gently, smoothing Diana’s hair away from her face with a soft and caring hand. “You’re okay. You’re safe. We found you. You’re here at the sanctuary. Nothing is going to happen again.”

There was a soft knock on the door.

“Come in,” Flora said, clearing her throat and standing.

Diana didn’t open her eyes, but she could hear Cullen’s voice. “John opened his head wound.”

“I _told_ him to not pick at it,” Flora said, sounding exasperated. She gathered her things into a bag; Diana could hear them clinking softly. “I’ve done everything I can. She’ll be alright, just needs rest. There was a mild sedative in the potion; she should sleep soon.”

Then there was the sound of the door opening and closing again and then silence.

“Diana?” She opened her eyes to see Cullen standing near her. His eyes were soft and so was his voice. “Can I move you to the bed?”

“I can walk,” she said quickly, sitting up from the bench.

“Please, let me-”

“No, I can-”

Cullen sighed, then quickly picked her up before she could protest anymore. Diana scowled at him, but didn’t say anything as he carried her over to his bed. He set her down very gently, then pulled the blankets up and around her. She watched him sleepily, noticing he had changed out of his wet clothes.

“Try to sleep. I’ll, ah, sleep in my office next door. If you need anything-” he began to say, but stopped when she reached to gently take his hand in hers.

“Sleep with me,” she said quietly. Diana tried to tug on his hand, but was too exhausted, so she only clasped it in her palm. “Please.”

He hesitated and for a long moment she worried he was going to refuse. Cullen pulled his hand from hers - but only so that he could tug off his boots. He moved to the vacant side of the bed, pulled down the covers on that side, and then laid down next to her.

Diana rolled over, pressing her face into his shoulder. He took a breath in, then opened his arms to pull her into his embrace. Cullen was warm and his arms provided a comforting weight on her skin.

Neither spoke for a long moment; there was only the sound of the crackling fireplace.

“I thought I was going to die,” Diana said eventually in a small, shaky voice.

Cullen’s jaw clenched and he pulled her tighter and pressed his mouth to her head.

“I was so mad,” she whispered, attempting to laugh. It came out as a choked sob. “I was so mad. I thought I was going to get killed by a fucking teenager.”

Cullen cleared his throat. “I guess you forgot, then.” His voice was tight.

“Forgot what?” she asked. Their legs tangled together under the cover as she pressed herself closer to him, wishing to absorb some of the heat that radiated from his body.

“That you’re not allowed to die,” he said firmly, whispering desperately. His voice was cracking and he sounded close to tears. Cullen took a moment to compose himself and then continued. “Not until we have a thousand grandchildren or - or a thousand mabari or a thousand adventures together. Not - not until we’re one hundred years old and we’ve done everything we’ve ever wanted to. ”

Her heart fluttered in her chest and she pressed her face into his tunic so he wouldn’t see her tears. She sniffled, then spoke. “I’ve always wanted to see Antiva.”

“Then let’s see Antiva. Let’s see Nevarra and the Anderfels and Orzammar,” Cullen whispered, his fingertips tracing up and down her arm. “I’ll follow you to the ends of Thedas and beyond. Anywhere you want to be, I want to be there with you.”

She didn’t respond, only clutched him closer. The air was still and silent and they were the only two people in the entire world.

“Go to sleep, Diana,” Cullen whispered several minutes later. His suggestion was unnecessary; her eyes were already shut and she was beginning to lose consciousness. Before she fell over the edge into a deep and dreamless sleep, she could swear she heard the words, “I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me writing the end of this chapter: DOn'T CRY, don'T CRY ;_____;


	22. Summer 14: Need

When she woke the next morning, Diana was immediately disoriented. The bed was too large to be hers, the room was too large to be hers, this was-

A soft snore pulled her attention to the other side of the bed. Cullen was asleep despite the bright, late morning sunlight that was streaming in through the windows of his room. She smiled slightly, her heart calming its frantic pace. That was right… she was in Cullen’s quarters, sleeping in his bed.

Diana thought back to the night before. She remembered asking him to stay and sleep with her and she remembered his sweet words of comfort and...

Had he said...? Her heart kicked into a frantic beat again, a hum of happiness in her stomach.

No. _No_ , that couldn’t have been right. Diana swallowed hard. It was probably only a dream. She had been exhausted last night and Flora had given her a sedative, too; maybe it had made her hallucinate or-

There was another tiny, barely-audible snore.

She rolled close enough so that she could press her face into Cullen’s warm neck.

He stirred and sleepily blinked down at her. He, too, looked momentarily disoriented as he woke but once he realized where he was - and who was touching him - he smiled.

“Did you know you snore?” Diana asked him quietly. Her throat ached as she spoke, but it was nowhere near as painful as it had been yesterday. It was less like glass scraping and more like she just had a bad cold.

Cullen rubbed his eyes and yawned. “No, I don’t,” he murmured. His voice was quiet, but deep and raspy from sleep.

“You do,” Diana insisted.

“Maybe,” he admitted after a moment. Cullen pulled her closer. “Only when I’m very tired. Did I wake you?”

“No.”

“How do you feel?”  His eyes swept over her face. She knew he was looking at the bruises from Leo’s strikes, as well as the knot on her head. His forehead creased.

She thought for a moment, assessing her condition. “Not great, but better than yesterday,” she said. Cullen didn’t look convinced, but didn’t press her. She leaned forward and softly kissed the crease between his eyebrows. “Stop worrying.”

“I won’t make any promises,” he said quietly, his hand reaching to cup her face.

“We never would have gotten anything done during the Inquisition if you were worrying about me like this,” she said with a small smile, turning her face so that she could kiss his palm.

He didn’t answer, but pulled her face down so he could kiss her mouth instead. His kiss was soft and tentative; he was being very mindful of her injuries and being very sure he wasn't going to accidentally poke or grip any bruises.

Diana didn’t want him to be careful.

Her hand slowly snaked its way under his shirt, flattening against the toned muscles of his chest. His breath hitched as she touched his bare skin.

“Ah-” he began, his hand reaching down to catch hers.

“Do you want me to stop?” she murmured against his throat.

He let out a frustrated noise and released her hand, letting it roam once more. “No,” he breathed. She could feel his muscles tense against her touch. “But we can stop if you’re- _Maker’s breath_!”

Her hand had dipped down from his chest and was now softly ghosting over his hip bones. She let out a small laugh at his reaction. Diana liked this. She wanted this - she wanted him, in her vision, in her breath, on her skin. She wanted to not think of anything that had happened yesterday. She wanted him, only him, to be her focus right now.

Cullen was straining to keep his breath even. His amber eyes locked onto hers and for a moment she froze, her palm stilling on his body. Cullen’s hand rose to grip her hip tightly and within a second he had rolled her onto her back; once their new position was secure, he placed her hand on his bare skin again. When he spoke again his voice was an intense, low, pleading whisper. “Please don’t stop.”

She made a pleased noise of surprise as his mouth trailed down her jaw. He kissed her on the soft skin beneath her ear, where she had no bruises from yesterday’s events, and his knee rose to rest between her thighs.

“Take this off, please,” she said, tugging on the edge of his tunic. Cullen leaned back on his knees, pulled the shirt off with one fluid movement, and then resumed his attentions. His hands were everywhere - tangling in her curls, framing her face, angling her jaw so he could kiss her deeply. Boldly, she reached with her hand and re-positioned one of his hands so that it was resting underneath her shirt and smallclothes, resting on the skin just above her hip.

He froze for a moment, his breath uneven with need. “Diana, if-”

“If I want you to stop I’ll let you know, I promise.”

He nodded and then his hands were under her shirt. At first he seemed nervous; his touch was shy and his expression wondrous as he explored her warm skin. Cullen kissed her hungrily.

They broke apart to catch their breath.

She looked at him, where he was currently kneeling between her legs, considering. At the rate they were going, soon they would both be naked and… she wasn’t sure if she wanted to experience this right now, when she was bruised and sore and her body smelled like lakewater.

“What is it, love?” he asked quietly, eyes soft but concerned.

She paused. “I smell like lakewater,” she said, which made him laugh.

“I hadn’t noticed. Not when, ah…” he motioned to where she lay currently, her shirt half up. “We don’t have to do… _this_ … if you’re-”

His sweetness, his hesitancy, made up her mind. Cullen was always putting her first, always thinking about how she would feel and react. He never pressured her into anything and he certainly wasn’t going to care if they had sex for the first time with less-than-perfect conditions. Diana didn’t care about achieving perfection, either; life had proven that there was never going to be a perfect time for anything. If things had always gone the way they were supposed to, she never would have reconnected with Cullen.

With this in mind, Diana didn’t answer. She simply leaned forward and hooked her fingers into the waist of his pants, tugging him forward and down onto her.


	23. Summer 15: In Bloom

“Did I tell you that you look lovely in my bed?”

Diana opened her eyes. She was very naked, very satisfied, and very close to falling asleep. “No, you didn’t,” she said, sleepily smiling at Cullen. He began tracing circles on her naked hips and then leaned down to touch his mouth to hers.

“Well, you do,” he said softly.  “And you looked lovely in my shirt, too.”

“Then why did you take it off?” she asked with a playful grin.

He laughed, then pressed his face against her stomach. She could feel him kiss her bare skin and eventually he looked up at her, resting his chin on her body. He didn’t say anything, just watched her with a sweet smile on his face.

“What?” she asked, blushing under his gaze. 

“I love you.”

He didn’t hesitate at all; Cullen’s voice was strong and sure, like he was describing something he knew to be true a thousand times over. Diana smiled.

“You  _ did  _ say it last night, didn’t you?” she asked.

Embarrassment crept into his expression. “You heard that?” he asked, clearing his throat. He paused, resting his cheek on her stomach and when he spoke his voice was soft and velvety and full of honesty and what could only be described as love. “I wanted to see how it felt to say the words I’d been thinking for so long.”

Her hand went to his hair, stroking it away from his face. “How did it feel?”

“Wonderful. Everything about you feels wonderful,” he whispered, turning to press a kiss on her hip bone.

Her heart felt like it was a sun, casting warm rays of light on her whole body. Diana smiled. “Really?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

She thought back to how honest he had always been with her, even before she had come to the sanctuary. It seemed like so long ago, now. “I know you wouldn’t.”

They laid in silence for a few minutes, the weight of his head on her abdomen and her hand resting in his curls. Eventually, Cullen spoke, his voice quiet and wistful. “I never want to leave this room. I never want to move on from this moment.”

She laughed, ruffling his hair slightly. “This one?” she teased. Her voice softened. “I haven’t even said, ‘I love you’ back to you, yet.”

His head lifted up quickly, his eyes searching her face. He looked hopeful, but it was clear he was trying to not look  _ too  _ hopeful or demanding. “You do? I mean - do… you?” he asked carefully. 

“I think so,” she said quietly. Her hand cupped his face, trailing down the stubble forming on his jaw. “I haven’t ever… I’ve never been in love. But I know I haven’t ever felt like this before. ”

“How do you feel?” he asked softly.

“I’m not… I’m not good with words like you are,” she said, hesitant. 

Cullen’s hand reached up to gently move her hand from his hair and he laced his fingers through hers. He gave it a gentle squeeze. “I’m not good with words,” he said. “I just say how I feel. It’s very frightening, sometimes, especially when I’m trying to vocalize how I feel about  _ you.  _ But it’s understandable if you don’t want-”

“I love you,” she said, closing her eyes. It was easier to speak when she wasn’t looking at him. Her voice was a little shaky and her heart hammered in her chest. “I’m just… I’m completely at ease around you. I don’t know how to explain it, I wish I could better - I… I feel like I’ve come back from a very long journey and you’re the glow from a warm fire and you’re the comfort of a soft bed and the safe feeling of a heavy blanket - but you’re also like an extension of myself, I feel so… you feel like my home - you  _ are _ my home, Cullen... if that makes any sense...”

Diana trailed off, feeling embarrassed. She kept her eyes pressed shut, unwilling to look at his face to see his reaction. He moved in the bed; she could feel his weight lift off of her body and up toward the headrest.

“You said you weren’t good with words,” he said, sounding oddly choked. He cleared his throat. “Open your eyes, please, Diana. Please, look at me.”

She did. 

He had moved to her side; Cullen was looking at her intently. His eyes were soft and they were moist and as he spoke again his voice was heavy with emotion, although he spoke in a quiet whisper. “I love you,” he said, his arms gently wrapping around her. He pulled her close against his bare chest and she felt like crying into the crook of his neck. 

Not out of sadness, but out of relief that during her darkest times, she had made the choice to keep going; because on the other side of those months of numbness in a dark corner of herself was this, was Cullen and his warm body and his warm heart and a flower of happiness beginning to bloom, strong and sure and happy in this new place. 


	24. Autumn 1: Plans

The heat of summer cooled into a crisp fall.

In the week following Leo’s death, Cullen once again nearly lost himself in his investigation. He spent late nights going over every document they had that mentioned Leo, trying to find a reason for the teenager’s actions. Eventually, Diana had demanded that he leave the search to Leliana. His obsession had been taking up too much of their time together; she wished to leave the violence in the past and focus on her sweet present with Cullen. 

He had agreed, however reluctantly, and their routine returned to normal. Well, as normal as possible; there was still increased security around the sanctuary and new regulations were put into place. Diana didn’t protest these changes. She knew Cullen couldn’t be persuaded to remove them and she didn’t wish them to be removed, anyway. 

Leo’s attempt on her life had (barely) failed, but it had still been an attempt. It had shown them just how easily someone could enter the sanctuary and harm someone if they wished to do so. Diana wasn’t foolish enough to think they were invincible and so she helped implement ways to make the sanctuary more secure. 

Tall watchtowers were constructed in the hills around the property, equipped with signal fires and horns. Each tower had at least one person assigned to it at all times; sometimes two or three when visibility was low because of fog or rain. At first, this meant the residents were stretched very thin as they struggled to keep up with the new watch rotation as well as their daily tasks like the harvesting of their modest crops.

Soon, thankfully, some relief arrived in the form of identical twins named Eldad and Ezra. The two tall men were former templars struggling with lyrium addiction and had heard of Cullen’s sanctuary. They stayed in an inn in Highever until a thorough background check, courtesy of Leliana, had been completed and afterwards were settled into their bunks in the barracks.

They were quiet and solemn and Diana hardly ever saw them smile, but they spent a lot of time with Flora and Sandrine and opened up, slowly, like tulips blooming from a frosty spring. Apparently satisfied with the beginnings of progress, Eldad and Ezra sent word to some of their fellow ex-templars who had been searching for a new purpose.

Within a week or two, the sanctuary’s numbers had increased by a dozen.

Productivity boomed around the property. Their garden tripled in size, growing fall vegetables like cauliflower and beetroot and cabbage. New buildings were constructed within days, including a larger pantry attached to the dining hall and a specially constructed building for drying and smoking meats. 

Perhaps the best perk of having a better staffed, more secure sanctuary was that Cullen and Diana were now able to resume their walks. They didn’t necessarily have the same private feeling that they had before, since they were always within sight of at least one watchtower, but Diana didn’t mind. It was better than being confined to the sanctuary.

One day as they made a lazy, slow path through the surrounding land, Cullen stopped at the top of a particularly tall hill. The pair wordlessly looked out over the sloping lands; the sanctuary was laid out before them, busy and beautiful with flames of fluttering, golden autumnal grasses bordering the fenceline. Within the sanctuary, tiny figures buzzed around like bees in a hive.

“It’s beautiful,” Diana said finally, leaning her head on Cullen’s shoulder. “You should be proud.”

He smiled. “ _ Everyone  _ should be proud,” he amended. “But… I am. It’s beginning to become what it was supposed to be. We’re protecting ourselves, growing.”

Diana said nothing, just watched his eyes crinkle with happiness as he took in the view. After a few seconds, however, that little crease of worry between his eyebrows made an appearance.

“What is it?” Diana asked, but she could guess. Leo’s demise - and his motives - weighed heavily on everyone’s minds, even as they tried to move past it. The sanctuary was flourishing, but the idea that all they were building could be wiped away if they didn’t find out who had been working with Leo… that was there, lurking, at all times, even though she wanted to  move past it.

Cullen hesitated. “Leliana still hasn’t found anything… I just want this to be over. I want to sleep at night knowing you’re safe,” he said, reaching down to take her hand in his. He squeezed it, gently.

“If it makes you feel any better,” she began, slowly, with a small smile. “I  _ do  _ sleep with the Commander of the Inquisition by my side every night.”

“Do you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. He smiled, bringing her hand to his lips briefly. “What a lucky man. I imagine you’re a vision to wake up to.”

Diana flushed, pleased, and then they turned and resumed their walk through the hills. In the distance they could see Roger, racing through the hills and chasing rabbits. 

Cullen cleared his throat. “I, ah, haven’t told Rosalie about…” he trailed off, then tried again. “Us.”

“Neither have I,” she said, frowning slightly. She wrote letters to Rosalie - and Alec - but hadn’t mentioned that they had finally confessed their feelings for each other… and, well, done  _ more  _ than that. She hadn’t mentioned the attempted murder, either, not wanting to send Rosalie into a panic. “We were so busy with… everything… and then I didn’t want to tell her in a  _ letter.  _ I don’t know.”

Cullen looked pleased. “We should tell her,” he said confidently. He looked down at her, curls gleaming in the sun.

“It’s going to be a long letter,” she said with a laugh. “Do you want to write or should I? And how much are we supposed to tell? I don’t want to scare her. I think she’d ride up here if we told her  _ everything. _ ”

“True,” he said, looking strangely pleased, like he knew a secret and she didn’t.

“What?” she asked, smiling. “What’s that smile for?”

“What if we told her together?” Cullen questioned, squeezing her hand again as they walked. “In person?”

Her heart jumped. “In person? You want to go-”

“To Holmfirth, yes. Why not? The sanctuary is secure. We have enough people here now that we could take a small group with us for protection - don’t look at me like that, we shouldn’t be completely reckless - and the journey isn’t outrageously long,” he said. Cullen looked very excited, but hesitated suddenly, looking unsure and a little worried. “Unless you - you don’t want to.”

“Are you joking?” she questioned, throwing her arms around him. She smiled into his neck, pressing a peppering of small kisses into his skin. “Of course I want to! When can we leave? It’s too late to leave today, but tomorrow? Tomorrow morning?”

“If you’d like,” he said, laughing and trying to squirm out of reach of her tickling kisses. “Whenever you’d like.  _ Whatever  _ you’d like.”

“I’d like to kiss you more,” she said bossily. Cullen laughed, but held still, and his hands went to her waist. His forehead pressed down against hers. His eyes slid shut and he breathed in, smiling.

“I can’t wait,” he said.

“Wait for what?”

“For the thousand adventures we have together,” he said softly, opening his eyes slowly. He brushed a thumb across her cheek.

“What kind of adventures?” she asked, smiling.

“I told you - whatever you’d like,” he repeated, kissing the tip of her nose. “I’m completely at your mercy.”

She just smiled as they stood, his palms cupping her face and his honey eyes searching her face. Diana didn’t know what kind of adventures she and Cullen would have. Maybe they’d have children, maybe they wouldn’t. Maybe they’d stay at the sanctuary forever, growing into old age together. Or maybe they’d move, going from town to town to help those in need. Maybe they’d leave Ferelden one day, searching for whatever lay beyond the sea, and never return.

Diana was overwhelmed by the possibilities, but his hands on her skin tethered her into the present. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slow update! I got kind of burnt out from updating all the time but I'm starting to feel better again. Plus, I have a lot of new inspiration for a new story after this one, hehe. ;) Not a Diana/Cullen story, but a Lavellan/Alistair! Sweet templars, always. <3


End file.
